


Prelude

by terra_nocuus



Series: The Hard Road Ahead [2]
Category: Lineage 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 14:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13812906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terra_nocuus/pseuds/terra_nocuus
Summary: Shadowhyn stepped into the Temple, the stone antechamber echoing with the hushed voices and murmured prayers of the villagers. Wooden racks held books, with long rows of candlesticks lighting the room with a flickering yellow glow. Several men and women were standing at the racks, but they did not hold her attention. She walked forward, the nave opening on her right, the long red carpet for its center aisle muffling her footsteps. The red-haired woman walked slowly through the rows of benches, looking for a glimmer of hope.There. A muted flicker against the wall near the chancel. Granted, there were others, several in fact. But this was the brightest. She stepped down a side aisle, Nifii following at a distance, and as Shadowhyn drew near the source, she felt the guilt slide like a knife deep into her heart.********An alternate ending to the Death of Ulana, which could lead... somewhere?So, SPOILERS obviously, if you've not read the Death of Ulana yet, since this is a reworked chapter 24 & 25





	1. How things might have went

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the Death of Ulana](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12714477) by [terra_nocuus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/terra_nocuus/pseuds/terra_nocuus). 



> I reconnected with neomaster509, and one comment he made about the DoU ending was how it was all wrapped up nice & neat, and everyone lives, and yeah, I put Shadowhyn through the grinder and I felt she needed a good ending. But our conversation made me realize the ending we'd talked about oh-so-many years ago had to do with DeeCee dying, and Shinoa taking over as Guild Leader (we were adapting things that happened in our L2 Clan: Keos left for university, DC had to step down, and Shinoa actually did take up the mantle), etc, etc. I also thought that I had some possibilities from an untouched thread in an earlier chapter that could make things interesting for my favorite red-haired healer going forward.
> 
> I don't know if this will go anywhere, but I have the itch to write more, so this gives me the option :)

**24**

      

      

      

     Shinoa threw up an arm, shielding her eyes from the blinding column of flame that swallowed the Black Mage. The heat from the flame singed her skin, her hair, the muddy cobblestones nearby fused into a reddish clay. The roar of the holy fire nearly drowned out the awful sounds the mad wizard made. “Shadowhyn!” Shinoa’s calls for her friend went unanswered, her voice no match for the thundering rush of sacred power. _What was she thinking?!_

     The rain of fire ceased, and the Blade Dancer blinked away the great green and purple splotches in her eyes. She slowly lowered her hand as she hesitantly took a step forward. The Bishop still hung by her neck, the Black Mage’s hand grasping her throat, her feet dangling in the air. The Mage had been reduced to a skeleton, blackened by fire and pitted with age, the thicker portions of bone still faintly glowing with heat. Shadowhyn’s arms had burned, dark red flesh hissed as it began to blister, her face and legs had turned a deep pink. Her blackened hands had fallen away from his wrist. Neither mage moved.

     Shinoa rushed to put an arm around the red-haired woman, chopping at the strangling arm with one of the Bishop’s swords that had fallen at her feet. Once she had broken the forearm free, Shinoa gently lowered the human woman to the ground, pulling the hand off her throat, breaking the fingers off in the process. The Bishop took a long, shuddering gasp. She blinked and groaned, grimacing as she began to feel her burns. “Sh… _Shinoa?_ ” she croaked, reaching out for her friend, her eyes open but unseeing. Shinoa grasped her hand and looked at her face, and met her cloudy, dull gray gaze.

     “I… I’m here, Shadaera.” That strange black amulet was looped around the dismembered wrist, the thick, black disk falling back onto Shadowhyn’s chest as Shinoa pulled the forearm away. The disk was cracked, slightly, and warm. The red-haired woman winced, groaning again as she tried to raise her hands to her head. “Are you alright?” Shinoa asked, the woman began to kick her feet, to struggle in the Blade Dancer’s arms, “ _Shadaera!_ ”

     A powerful wave of nausea swept over the Bishop, her head spinning as vertigo clawed at her stomach. She couldn’t see anything, _Why can’t I see?_ but she was certain she would have felt even worse if she could _see_ the village spinning around her. She turned her head away from Shinoa, tried to cover her mouth, but her arms refused to work. A sickening smell, a _memory_ of a smell, assaulted her nose, and she pushed away from the young Dark Elf as she rolled to the ground, retching and coughing. Mad cackling in the back of her mind chilled her blood, “No, no-no- _no!_ ” she cried.

     “ _There is no room for him here,_ ” Ulana’s gentle voice calmed her, “ _do not be afraid._ ” The cracked amulet glowed a fitful red and purple, a dark swirl of energy surging over the Bishop. Shinoa tried to reach her, but the torrent of dark magic threatened to burn her hands.

     Shadowhyn groaned as his magic tried to steal her body; she felt the cold ground in ancient catacombs, she saw the old, dead places, cities now ancient, she smelled the incense and the decay of years, the fetid rot of his body. She felt him clawing in her skull, struggling to find purchase there. She resisted his attempts to take her mind; Ulana held her hands and they prayed, they meditated, her love helped push him away. She caught a glimpse of his ambitions, his strident charge for Godhood, she saw the black deeds and the blacker magic he had cast on the path to immortality. He began to slip away, to turn, and she saw a glimpse of Lysander laying in the Temple yard. She lay on the ground gasping as the sickening cloud of _him_ left her. Shadowhyn felt hands under her arms, someone lifting her to her feet.

     “Ulana, can you see?” Shadowhyn asked quietly.

     The Summoner shook her head, “ _No, Shadaera, I use your eyes._ ”

     “What if—” The Bishop began before Ulana interrupted, “ _If I leave your body, you_ will _collapse. I’m… trying to suppress the pain from your injuries._ ”

     Shinoa’s voice in her ears, strong arms supporting her, “What was _that?_ It headed for the Temple!”

     Shadowhyn tipped her head toward the Blade Dancer, “He tried to take my body, he—I saw Lysander in the Temple yard!” She leaned her head against Shinoa’s shoulder, “We need to stop him before he hurts anyone else!”

     “Lysander?” _Oh no_ , Shinoa held the Bishop tightly around the waist, her other hand across her chest on her shoulder, “Can you walk?”

     The red-haired woman muttered something under her breath, waited for a moment before sagging, her shoulders slumped in disbelief. Shadowhyn nodded slowly, “Yes, just… lead the way?” unshed tears stung her ruined eyes as despair gripped her heart, “I… I need Nifii, I can’t…”

     Shinoa nodded before catching herself, “I’ll get you to her, let me grab my swords—”

     “—No! I mean, go ahead, but you’ll need to use this dagger,” Shadowhyn motioned toward the Blacksmith’s gift in its sheath at the small of her back, her hands spasming uselessly. The burns on her arms screamed. “Nifii will help me destroy the amulet, _then_ you’ll stop Dahvin,” she turned her empty eyes toward the Dark Elf, “You _have_ to kill him, this time.”

      

***

      

     Dadrabian glanced over his shoulder, watched for a moment as the Elder tended to the two mages leaning back against the cool stone of the Temple. The storm had been dispelled when the sky turned black, while Slifer and Rhianwen suffered the magical backlash as their Constructs were broken. He had helped Nifii carry them close to the Temple, where they could be out of the mud, at least, until they regained consciousness. He looked to his right, Mauldis and Thainn were still being tended to by a cadre of priests. Trader Jackson’s son had been moved nearby, the two girls still by his side. The priests were truly puzzled by his condition. Dadrabian frowned, _I hate to even think it, but they’re not very good at healing_. Yes, the three were stabilized, and not in pain, but it would be hours yet before even one was fully healed. _No wonder Shadaera was so welcome here._ He glanced at Nifii again before turning his attention back to the Western path. _She could do it_ much _faster, but I don’t trust them with the Mages_.

     He looked up at the black sky. No clouds were visible, no stars either. There was a strange glow that gave him some visibility, maybe thirty paces distance, but beyond that was more blackness. He had _no_ idea what this was. He waved up at the Temple roof, catching the Hawkeye’s attention. “See anything?” the old Knight asked through the link. He watched Sado shake his head. The Undead seemed to have given up on them. _Shadaera_ did _say they were after her… Goddess above, I hope she’s alright._

     The Guild link had been suspiciously silent for some time, now. Nothing from DragonClaw or Shadowhyn. _Or Shinoa now, too, I almost for—_ The sky split as a searing bar of light struck the Village Square, the air howling as it burned. The ground beneath their feet rumbled.

     Nifii spun, her eyes growing wide at the holy fire, “Shadowhyn!” she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. _What does this mean?_ she wondered.

     Pendragon and Dadrabian turned to watch what little they could see beyond the row of buildings before them, the Inn Keeper turning back to look up at the archers on the roof, “What do you see!” he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth.

     Sado and Daria shaded their eyes from the pillar of white flame, grimacing as they tried to make out any details. “Nothing, too bright!” Daria called back.

     Nifii picked up her Lance as she stood, running over to stand by Dadrabian, pointing at the flame, “Shadaera’s casting that,” She tried to grin, but fear still held her heart, “If she can use her Sacred Arts, we might—” The column of fire dissipated, the deep black returning. After a few moments the preternatural darkness began to fade, the early evening sunlight brightening the sky. She looked at Dadrabian, then to Pendragon, “What should we do?”

     The two men looked at each other, Pendragon motioning toward the Inn Keeper. Dadrabian nodded, “DragonClaw?” he asked into the link, “DeeCee, do you need us to come to you?” He grinned up at the cloudless sky, nodded to himself as he waited for a response. He rubbed a gauntleted hand on the back of his neck as Nifii’s small smile began to fade. He frowned, glanced at Pendragon, turning to face the Village Square. “DragonClaw?”

     A bubbling, roiling cloud of black smoke streaked through the air to swallow the Trader’s son, Lysander choking and coughing as the aura forced its way into his body. He stood abruptly, knocking his sister and the Blacksmith’s daughter away, and gestured toward the group of priests. Screams and a horrifying staccato of _thuds_ echoed through the Temple yard as cruel lengths of cursed bone speared the healers, their lifeblood spraying across the grass around him. “ **What a _fool_ she is,** ” Lysander ground his teeth, shaking his head. Lydia and Joan shrieked, scrambling away from their friend.

     Dadrabian stepped between Nifii and the Trader’s son, leveling his shield as he drew his sword. “ _You need to find Shadaera,_ ” he whispered over his shoulder, sparing a glance up at the Temple roof. He could see Sado pushing Daria back, both archers moving away from Lysander’s line of sight. Nifii took a step back as the Knight moved forward. He focused on the young man, “What have you done to Lysander?”

     The Trader’s son bowed, laughing, “ **He is my familiar, my _thrall_ , and I can use him as I see fit.**” He stretched his arms, examining his hands before running them through the remnants of his hair, “ **I’ve not taken a body this young in a while,** ” he inhaled deeply, “ **ahh, youth is wasted on the young.** ”

     The High-Priest came out of the Temple, concerned by the sounds that had filtered indoors. “What is the meaning of this?” he sputtered, “What have you done?!” He slowed as he saw the dead priests, “What is—”

     Lysander wheeled about, turning on the old man, “ **Biotin, what did I tell you to do?** ”

     At the sound of the Black Mage’s voice, the High-Priest fell to his knees, cowering. The old man began to stutter as he groveled before the Trader’s son, “Oh, Master! I… I did not realize, I—” Lysander drew close to the man’s face, and he shuddered. The Guild members stared, horrified by the implication. The High-Priest of the Temple, a party to this—Dadrabian glanced over his shoulder; Nifii was gone, swift footsteps disappearing down the nearby alley.

     “ **What task did I give you?** ” Lysander walked around the old man, slow footsteps keeping him in the old man's periphery. Sweat trickled down Biotin’s throat as he swallowed.

     “To k-keep her unaware,” the High-Priest offered. “W-we kept her off balance! Long stretches of boredom with a mountain of Temple work if she returned to h—”

     “ **AND. WHAT. OTHER. TASK?** ” the Black Mage drew close to the quivering man, leaning over his shoulder to shout in his ear. Dadrabian glanced at Pendragon, looked over toward the priests. Mauldis caught his eye, the Tyrant shifted his hand as if to sit up, and the Knight shook his head. _Don’t!_

     “ _To find y-your soulstone?_ ” the old man whispered.

     “ **Yesss,** ” the young man hissed, “ **my _soulstone_. How _did_ they manage to steal it ten years ago?** ” Lysander came ‘round the old man, grabbed the front of his robes as he stared into the High-Priest’s eyes, “ **Why was it not hidden as I’d commanded? Perhaps I was _betrayed_?** ”

     The old man shook his head, his face white as snow, his body shaking in fear. The Trader’s son pushed him down, as Lysander’s borrowed voice grew dangerous, “ **Who do you think wears it now?** ” He stood and laughed, a dead, mirthless sound, “ **At least I can suppress her Arts while she is trapped in it. But you…** ” his voice trailed off as he reached for the shivering old man, “ **You have proven yourself useless.** ” As Lysander’s hand closed around his neck, the old man’s body twisted, bones cracking and breaking, the High-Priest breathing twice more before blood trickled from his nose and mouth.

     The Trader’s son released the corpse as he turned to face Dadrabian. “ **She continues to resist,** ” Lysander sneered derisively, raising his hands in mock surrender, “ **so I’m afraid I must destroy everything she loves so she can spend the next five hundred years in mourning.** ” He glanced over his shoulder at the girls, huddled close together by the Temple wall, “ **I’ll save you two for last, that should be _exceptionally_ effective.** ”

     “You’ll do no such thing, Dahvin!” Shadowhyn’s voice, weak and raspy, managed to catch his attention. She stumbled from the alley to the open section of the yard, held up by Nifii’s arm around her waist. Strangely, she looked off to the side, toward the dead priests. Dadrabian felt a chill run down his spine when he saw her more clearly: her arms were dark, cracked and bleeding, badly burned, her hands a mass of blisters and char. Her face was burned as well, not as bad, but— _Her eyes!_ She whispered something to Nifii, and the Elder led her forward a few more steps. Shadowhyn tried to grasp the amulet at her neck, groaning and grinding her teeth as she fumbled it in her hand. She gasped and sagged as she pulled it away from her skin, Nifii pulling her tight to hold her upright.

     Lysander’s laugh was a terrible, empty sound, “ **You? _Look_ at you! What can _you_ do to stop me?** ” He threw his borrowed arms wide, gesturing all about, “ **No one here can stop me!** ”

     Shadowhyn tipped her head toward the Elder, whispering, “ _Are we close to anyone?_ ”

     Nifii glanced around, “No, no one within five paces. Why?”

     Shadowhyn paused, asked, “Might I borrow some of your strength, one more time?”

     “As much as you need,” the Elder said, opening her Mana to the red-haired woman.

     “ _Are you sure about this?_ ” Ulana asked, “ _Shinoa should be ready by now, she could—”_

     “It’s the only way, Sister,” Shadowhyn said softly, drawing deeply on Nifii’s power. She felt dizzy, from the pain as well as the mental weight of the Mana she held. She turned her face toward the Elder, laying her head on her shoulder, “I love you, Nifii, and I’m so proud of you.”

     “What?” Nifii asked, confused.

     “ _Namba en’ Arvandor!_ ” Shadowhyn cried, wrenching the amulet above her head with a sob. Ulana used her other hand to shove Nifii away, hard, the Elder falling to the mud, sliding away from the Bishop.

     “Shadaera, _what_ was—” Nifii began to say, furious, when the sky broke open, the white-hot spear of holy fire lancing down to strike the amulet in the Bishop’s hand before the column of flame swallowed the red-haired woman with a shriek. Lysander buckled, screaming, the Black Mage’s voice the roar of a dying animal. He seized, twitching and writhing as the holy flame burned his soulstone.

     Mauldis rolled to his hands and knees, clawing his way across the yard to crouch in front of Slifer and Rhianwen. He motioned to Lydia and Joan, the two girls scrambling to hide behind his comforting bulk. Pendragon stepped closer to Thainn, keeping his Glaive at the ready to protect the crippled Dwarf. Dadrabian and Nifii watched the flames in horror, the Elder standing shakily as she held a hand in front of her eyes.

     

     The pillar of fire swirled and vanished. Shadowhyn fell to her knees, her head and torso blistered, her skin cracked and bleeding. Her robes were burnt, smoking fitfully as they smoldered. She lowered her left arm, the smoking stump covered with the ashes of the amulet and the hand that had held it. She fell forward as her knees buckled, catching herself with her right hand, tipping to her left to land on her shoulder, rough and heavy. She wondered if Ulana was blocking the pain from reaching her, or if the flame had just… burned all sensation away.

     Nifii scrambled to her side, her hands shaking as she tried to concentrate on a Pattern, her thoughts sluggish with fear. Try as she might, she couldn’t form a Construct. She clenched her teeth and focused on her Art, but still the threads of magic were just beyond her reach. “ _Why_ , Shadaera?” the Elder asked, closing her eyes to see beyond the physical, looking for the familiar glow around herself. She covered her mouth with her hands when she saw the lack of light within, “You… you took it _all_ … I… I can’t heal you.” Being pushed to the ground had distracted her; with anger clouding her mind, she hadn’t realized how much the Bishop had borrowed from her.

     Slowly, the burned woman lifted her arm, wheezing wretchedly as she gasped shallow breaths of air. “ _You did it, Sister,_ ” Ulana said, but Shadowhyn couldn’t respond. She was busy, scratching rough symbols in the heat-blasted earth with her hand, gouging a scarlet-traced Pattern that Ulana remembered. Nifii looked over her shoulder at the Knight and shook her head.

     Dadrabian turned back to the Trader’s son, stepping between him and Nifii, the young man stumbling to his feet as the Black Mage inside him growled. “ **Destroyed—She’s destroyed _everything!_** ” In a rage, Lysander summoned a ring of cursed bones, prepared to fling them all at the Bishop and the Elder. Sado loosed a pair of arrows, striking Lysander in each arm as Daria’s quarrel caught him in the collarbone. Pendragon leapt forward, spinning as he swung his Glaive through the floating bones, shattering them, knocking them from the air. Dadrabian stood his ground, protecting the healers with his body. He clenched his teeth, waited for those last projectiles to break him apart.

     Her breathing had slowed considerably. She was getting so tired, but she was finally done. She placed her mangled hand in the center of the spell-sigil. “ _Just repeat after me,_ ” Ulana said to her, the Summoner’s soft voice thick with regret as she recited the spell. Shadowhyn’s mouth moved, but hardly any sound fell from her lips. She exhaled and went limp. Nifii reached out to place a shaking hand on her shoulder, praying desperately for her strength to return.

     Rapid footsteps sounded as Shinoa dashed toward the Trader’s son from the Southern approach, leaping, catching his torso in her legs as she swung her weight around, hooking her arm around his throat. She planted her feet, hard, metal armor plates biting deep in the sodden grass as she heaved, spinning him off his feet, flinging him head over heels. His cursed bones vanished once his head hit the ground, the young man stunned as he was sent rolling across the Temple yard.

     Pendragon hefted his Glaive, ready to spear the young man where he laid, but the Warlord turned his head when Dadrabian called out a warning. Shinoa pressed forward, dashing low to the ground as she yelled, “Get _back!_ I have this!”

     Lysander raised a hand as he struggled to get up, summoning another brace of deadly projectiles. She dodged the cursed bone flung her way, diving and rolling to avoid the others. She leapt high, landing on her hands to spring up and over him, kicking him down on his back, dropping her knees onto his chest with a dull crunch. He wheezed at the impact as she pinned him down, stomping a heavy boot onto his wrist.

     Shinoa raised the Soul Separator to strike, driving it up through his jaw, into his skull. “ _I’m sorry_ ,” she whispered. A bright light flickered in his eyes as the young man spasmed and died.

     That roiling black aura leapt from his body, slowly coalescing into the form of a Dark Elf dressed in ancient robes. He looked around, surprised, down at his spirit form before beginning to laugh. “ **I succeeded!** ” he shouted, raising his fists to the sky. He looked down at Shinoa, crouched over Lysander’s body, and pointed, “ **You fools failed! All your pain and suffering, and I— _still_ — WON!” **Black coruscating clouds began to swirl around the spectre’s form as Dahvin’s triumphant laughter rang out across the Temple yard. The ground began to shift, the shapeless mass around the Black Mage falling away from him, running along the ground, the shadows cast by the torches melting as the darkness began to pool around the Bishop.

     A blue tetragram flared under her torso, the Pattern drawn with bloody scratches glowing a fierce, angry red around her blackened fingers. The burnt and blistered skin on her back jumped and cracked, markings gouged into her flesh oozed a weak trickle of blood as the spell worked its magic. She groaned as the long-faded _jitai_ between her shoulder blades flared with pain. The twisting pool of darkness leapt up through her chest, emerging from her back as a pair of savagely clawed hands, long angular arms bending down to push off the shrouded earth, _Si-Sana-Soulless_ answering its master’s call.

     Nifii scrambled away from the dread servitor as its horned head broke free of the Bishop’s back, the white eyes gleaming bright amidst its blackness, the human’s body spasming with a wet _crack_ as the nightmare figure pulled itself free. It floated there above the still woman for a long moment, surveying the surprised faces all around before reaching down into her back to pull Ulana out, tossing the battle-garbed Summoner’s ethereal form high in the air. The luminous Drow landed softly next to Shinoa, nodding to her sister as she pulled a pair of spectral blades from her back.

     **W͘hy ḩave̴ _y͞ou_ cal҉le̛d̶ ͠m̨e͝? ** the _Soulless’_ voice was empty and cold, filled with an icy rage. The servitor was _not_ pleased, its wrath palpable. Nifii slid closer to Shadowhyn, crouching on one knee, her Lance held at a wary angle. The angry darkness turned slightly, freezing the Elder with its blank stare. Dahvin began to laugh as Dadrabian and Pendragon ceded ground to the three wraiths.

     Ulana pointed a blade toward the Black Mage and called out, “ _To destroy this_ cre _—_ "

     The servitor’s snarl silenced the Summoner as the _Sana-Soulless_ looked down at the fallen Bishop. Her breath came slow, a reedy, wet whistle of air. She groaned as she moved her hand, making a fist. Shinoa looked up at Ulana, both Dark Elves shocked by the interruption.

     **An̛d m͜y ̶pric͏e?̷**

     She hissed, hardly a sound.

     Dahvin flinched as the _Soulless_ vanished with a clap of thunder, the ground warping around the Black Mage as he drew on a boiling mass of energy, jagged shards of spectral bone appearing around him. Shinoa pulled the Soul Separator free as she lunged away from Lysander’s body, Ulana leaping forward to slice at the Ancient One’s shade, ghostly bone spearing the ground where they had stood. The Blade Dancer drew the knife from her leg sheath, brandishing both daggers as she focused on the threat before her.

     The Summoner spun and slashed, smashing cursed bone away with each blow, getting close to Dahvin to drive her knee into his stomach. He gasped and shoved, a great black blaze forcing her away. Shinoa leapt into his blind-spot, striking first with her long knife, the blade passing easily through his body, _No! It didn’t hurt him!_ while spinning to bury the Soul Separator in his back. He howled as the forked blade sliced through his side as her momentum carried her away.

     Dadrabian fell back to kneel beside the Bishop, keeping his shield up. “How is she?” he hissed at Nifii, the Elder busy at the woman’s throat and back. Blood poured freely now from her _jitai_ , welling up around the Dark Elf’s hands even as she applied cloth and pressure, as the woman wheezed weakly under Nifii’s efforts.

     “I—I don’t, I can’t—” she looked up at him, “She took _all_ my Mana, I can’t do _anything_.”

     “Then we had better pray,” he muttered.

     “ _Pendragon! Up!_ ” Ulana called as her long strides brought her close to the Warlord and the Tyrant. Old instincts took hold, and the human slapped his Glaive to the ground, blade flat, giving her a foot-hold. He spun and heaved, throwing the Dark Elf’s shade high in the air. Dahvin glanced up, raised a hand to spear her with some dark energies, and the Blade Dancer slid her magical blade into his ribs. He coughed a sparkling dark fluid, and his body shimmered as her knife stayed fast in his side. Shinoa shoved, his form having solidity, and pushed him to the ground as Ulana plunged to meet him with her swords.

     He shrieked with rage, great arcs of black flame knocking the Summoner from the air. Ulana crossed her blades, blocking the worst of his attack, but still her shimmering leather armor blackened and smoldered. Dahvin stood and chanted an incantation, the ancient words mere shapes of sound in their ears, and great coils of rippling blackness surrounded him.

     Shinoa and Ulana danced around the Black Mage, their speed and agility keeping their bodies a hairs-breadth away from Dahvin’s rapid bursts of magic, long whip-like tendrils of a furious energy threatening to slice them limb from limb. Just when they seemed ready to press their advantage, he would drive them back. They landed, sliding away from him as they crouched, ready to sprint forward again, as a pair of claws lanced up from the ground and speared the magician’s torso. His tendrils lashed out at the claws, slashing and tearing at the servitor’s arms, but the energy dissipated on contact, being absorbed by the _Soulless_.

     He looked down in surprise as they continued to carve up through his chest, the terrible hands forcing out the top of his shoulders, clutching his arms to his sides, his upper body bent and breaking. He sagged as sparkling fluids began to fall from his wounds, the specter’s blood vanishing before it hit the ground. A grinning nightmare loomed just over the Ancient One’s shoulder, its teeth drawing close to his neck. Dahvin turned to look at the white eyes, started to gasp, “ ** _How_ are you—** ”

     **Şhe̡ s̕aid ̛I ̵c̨oul̴d̵ ̴eat yǫu̸ ̡ąfter͏ I boun̸d y͏ou** , it growled into his ear as fear took hold in his mind. It sniffed at his throat before purring, a low grinding like boulders tumbling, **T̨ura҉ ͞F͘a͝ll͡a̧n̛er͝ ̨bough̴t ͟y̢ou͠r ͏dea̛t̸h with h̶e͠r l͞ife̛**. The _Soulless_ lifted the limp magician off the ground, turning about to face the two Dark Elves, savagely twisting the Black Mage’s captive form. They lifted their swords and looked to one another, ready to strike. An intense pressure swelled in their minds, a thunderclap inside their heads, causing Ulana and Shinoa to pause, as the other mortals around them groaned, covering their ears.

     A white haze saturated the air in the Temple yard as Shilen’s form took shape: the Goddess filled the sky, the Black Mage’s spirit a skewered insect before Her. The Temple yard bent under the weight of Her presence, the muddy ground leaning away from Her touch. The humans still standing fell to their knees, Pendragon and Dadrabian shuddering as they dropped their weapons in the mud, Sado throwing his arm across his face as Daria gave a strangled cry. Mauldis was already kneeling because of his shattered leg, but now he knuckled down into the muck, tearing deep furrows in the earth with his Fists.

     Dahvin raised a hand to point at Her, tried to speak. As much as he aspired to Godhood, the difference between the two was apparent to all. He cried out in fear of Her terrible gaze before She looked to Ulana. The Summoner moved in an instant, her swords bisecting his torso and removing his head, as _Soulless_ wrenched his remains apart. The servitor clawed at his shimmering remnants, voracious, as the dark creature sank down into the earth.

     Shinoa bowed her head to her Goddess, breathing a sigh of relief. “As you desired, All-Mother,” the Blade Dancer said, looking down at the dead young man near her feet as a memory of his smile brought a tear to her eye.

     Shilen began to fade when Nifii called out. “All-Mother, please!” the Elder cried, raising her arms toward the great avatar. Shilen turned to loom over Her healer, the Dark Elf kneeling before the still, silent Bishop. Ulana sat beside Shadowhyn’s head, tears in her eyes as she ran a hand softly across the human’s crumbling cheek. “Please, You… You brought her back before,” Nifii buried her face in her hands, “I _beg_ of you, just once more?”

     “ _I would ask the same, All-Mother,_ ” Ulana said, her eyes never leaving the Bishop’s face.

     Shinoa approached, slowly, halting at Shadowhyn’s side. She slumped to her knees, staring down at her friend. Blood had pooled thick and dark around her body, staining her burned, tattered robes. She could barely recognize her. The Blade Dancer looked up at Ulana, “You… You knew?” she asked, her throat thick with emotion.

     Ulana sighed and nodded, “ _It was her plan… She… It was the only way._ ”

     Shinoa swore softly under her breath, scrubbing the palms of her hands against her eyes. She looked up to the sky, blinking as more tears began to fall. “All-Mother,” the Blade Dancer said, “Take what You will from me, only—” her voice caught, “only bring her back to us… Please.”

     Shilen reached down to place a gentle hand on each of Her Daughters’ shoulders, comforting them. Her voice thundered again, the mortals groaning under the weight of Her words. Shinoa looked to Ulana, and the Summoner gazed back. “ _It is your choice, Shinoa_ ,” Ulana said, “ _I cannot stay, nor can I decide such a thing_ for _you_.”

     The Blade Dancer looked up and nodded, “I accept.”

     The Goddess held out another hand, holding it over the Bishop’s body. Her charred skin began to lighten, softening, knitting back together. Her left arm began to shimmer, the blackened stump dissolving as the bones grew into place, ropes of muscle and flesh flowing to form her missing hand. Her cracked and cloudy eyes became soft and clear, changing from a dull gray to their usual bright green, and her flame-red hair grew back, racing in waves out of her freshly pale pink scalp.

     For a long moment, the Goddess held Her hand over the human’s body before a thin golden thread rose from the woman’s forehead. Shilen motioned, the thread following Her hand toward Shinoa, coiling around her brow before it faded from sight. The young Dark Elf shivered at the rush of sensations. Shadowhyn took a shuddering breath, her eyes fluttering open. She stared up, saw Shinoa, Nifii, and Ulana around her, and Shilen fading away above them. She smiled, her eyes dancing. She glanced down at her hands, frowned slightly at her left arm, and grinned as a small Construct flared between her fingertips.

     She looked up at her Sisters and asked, “We did it?” When they nodded at her, smiling, she laid her head back on the cracked clay, tears of joy welling in her eyes. For the first time in a long, long while, she felt whole.


	2. As much as things change, they stay the same

     

     

     

     

**VI**

**Reminiscence** _n._ : That which is remembered, or recalled to mind; a statement or narration of remembered experience.

      

    

     She knelt beside the fallen Paladin, moving slowly to keep her borrowed cloak wrapped around her torso, staying modest despite her ruined sapphire-and-white robes. She grunted softly, feeling strangely stiff and numb despite every nerve in her body singing. She felt more awake, more _alive_ than she had in years, and yet… and yet here she was. Surrounded by death and destruction. The North Gate still smoldered, the thick wooden beams glowing fitfully. Piles of ash and bone, and rotting ghouls littered the Village Square, and her dear friend before her.

     Shadowhyn looked up at Shinoa, the Blade Dancer standing close by, not having left her side since she woke. She could _feel_ her, and if she closed her eyes she would surely _see_ her clearly in her mind’s eye. She’d had a taste of this just before Ulana died, this… _closeness_ to another. When she had opened her eyes, unbelievably—her survival was _not_ part of her plan—she could feel _again_. The nervousness, the hesitance, the fear of _rejection_ … At that moment she _knew_ what Shinoa had done, what she had done _for_ _her_. She remembered that same desperate grasp at any hope, any chance, no matter how unlikely.

     “Shadaera… are you alright?” Shinoa asked quietly, concern rippling through the back of the woman’s mind.

     The Bishop tried to laugh as she nodded, but it came out choked and halting. “DeeCee often threatened that I would be the death of her, and I do so hate to prove her right,” she grinned up at the young Drow, getting a shy half-smile in return. “I… I don’t know what to do now, but _she_ will,” the Bishop said as she looked down at her lap, her hands shaking, no, _vibrating_ with life.

     She doubted she had ever felt quite like _this_ before. Nifii had held her close, laughing and crying alike, telling her she had died, that Shilen Herself had brought her back. She knew what the touch of Einhasad’s Resurrection felt like, and this was something else.

     The Blade Dancer knelt beside her, laying a gauntleted hand on her shoulder, “What can I do to help?” Shinoa struggled to make sense of the feelings from their bond.

     “Oh, Shinoa,” Shadowhyn smiled, shaking her head, “You’ve… you’ve done so much for me already.” The Dark Elf looked away quickly, embarrassment flooding their bond, followed quickly by a muted horror as she realized the human would feel it too. The red-haired woman reached up to squeeze her companion’s hand, focusing on her own gratitude. She watched as Shinoa reacted, staring at nothing for a moment before sliding her eyes up to meet the Bishop’s gaze. “I don’t require anything right now, thank you.”

     She looked down at DragonClaw, lying pale and broken under the low orange sun, her rain-spotted armor glittering in the evening light. “I’ll raise her, then our other Guild mates, and… we’ll go from there.” Shinoa nodded and stood, taking a few steps back as the Bishop closed her eyes and focused on the Pattern she had learned so many years ago. She frowned, grimacing slightly as she opened herself to the warm glow of Einhasad’s holy light. This time, the familiar threads of magic were slippery, oily, hard to grasp. This time…

     This time the warm glow _burned_. She flinched as she remembered the pillar of holy flame swallowing her whole, and the Pattern vanished as she opened her eyes, reeling back slightly. She shook her head, glancing up at Shinoa when she felt the pang of confusion and alarm, smiled weakly as she wiped at the sweat that sprang out on her forehead. “I, uh, just need a moment. Sorry.”

     “Do you want me to get Nifii?” Shinoa asked. The young Drow was worried. Perhaps she had cause. Shadowhyn nodded, and the Blade Dancer took off toward the Temple, her heavy boots ringing on the cobblestone street.

     The red-haired woman looked down at the Paladin, and gently ran a thumb across the woman’s cheek. _She believed in me… I can’t fail her because I’m afraid_ , she thought as she cleared her throat, raising a hand over her fallen friend’s chest. She paused as she prepared to focus, taking a deep breath as she emptied her mind. Once more she drew the intricate Pattern on the black void in her mind, reaching out for the Mana to perform this miracle.

     It was too hot, it burned in her mind and in her hands. It hurt, _Oh, why_ _did_ _it_ _hurt_ , it wasn’t supposed to do that, but _she_ had to do this! No one else could! Her groan started out as a low rumble in the back of her throat, but with each heartbeat the pain grew larger, stronger. Soon she was whimpering, her right hand trembling as she held it over the Paladin, her left pressed hard to her eye, a sharp pain in her head that felt as if it would split her skull.

     A wave of vertigo made her wobble unsteadily on her knees, and she opened her eyes to slap a hand down to the ground, catching herself before she could tip over. The awful pressure in her head tapered off as soon as her concentration had broken. Black splotches stained the edges of her vision as she blinked, white spots flickering and fading before her eyes. She blinked some more, her vision smeared and fuzzy. _Why can’t I raise her? What… what’s happened to me?_ She tried to breathe deep and settle her racing heart, as a heavy blanket of dread settled over her shoulders.

     Strong hands grabbed her arms, and she jumped. Shadowhyn looked up, startled, seeing the pair of burnished amber eyes searching her face, concern filling Shinoa’s voice, “Shadaera, _what happened_? This is—I felt—don’t _try_ to hide it,” the Blade Dancer stumbled over her words, but she found her footing soon enough, “You were afraid, and in pain. I could feel it! What’s going on?!” She looked over her shoulder as Nifii knelt next to her, placing her own gray skinned hand against the red-haired woman’s forehead, a glowing golden Construct flaring behind her knuckles as she muttered an incantation.

     “Look at _me_ , Shadaera,” Nifii said, her gentle voice commanding. She pressed a palm to the Bishop's throat, counting under her breath as she used her other hand to peer into the human’s eyes, pulling at her eye lids to get a closer look. The Elder hissed as she saw the red staining the woman’s left eye, broken blood vessels ringing the wide-blown pupil. She chanted a quick incantation, and a rush of golden light swept over the frail human to erase the damage.

     “I—I couldn’t cast the spell,” Shadowhyn’s voice was quiet. She didn’t want to say it out loud and make it real. “It _hurts_ when I try to resurrect DragonClaw.”

     Shinoa and Nifii shared a hesitant look, before both turned back to the human. “Does it hurt for _all_ your Sacred magic?” the Elder asked.

     Shadowhyn considered for a moment before replying, “I’ve only used the one spell so far,” her gaze jumped between the two Dark Elves, “I should try another… how’s Mauldis? Or Thainn?”

     Shinoa nodded, “They could use your attentions, Thainn most of all.” She held out a hand, gently pulling the Bishop to her feet, “Come, let us see, and I’ll not be leaving your side this time.” The Blade Dancer held out her arm, hooking the smaller woman’s elbow with her own, gently guiding her back toward the Temple.

     Nifii fell in on Shadowhyn’s other side, matching the human’s shorter stride as they walked down the Southern Road, “I was working on Mauldis’ injuries when Shinoa came to get me.” The Elder glanced over at the red-haired woman, not entirely sure the human was listening. She had that faraway look on her face again. “I had thought of leaving Thainn for you, Shadaera, as your Healing is better suited to his condition.” The Bishop had looked up at the sound of her name, but she hadn’t responded yet. The Elder looked over her head to catch Shinoa’s eye.

     Shinoa cleared her throat, patting the woman’s arm, “What troubles you, Sister?”

     The Bishop stared down the road at the great wall of ice that had swallowed the South Gate. She idly traced its edges with her gaze as she searched for the right words. “What… What if I’ve been…” She looked up at Shinoa, then looked at Nifii, “I summoned the _Soulless_ , and now I’m having trouble with the Sacred Arts…” She cast her eyes back at the ground, watching the cobblestones disappear beneath her feet as they walked. “What if I’ve been… cut off?”

     The armored Drow frowned, her eyebrows furrowed as she thought of how to respond. She opened her mouth to speak, but the red-haired woman continued, “I just wanted to raise DeeCee and the others, so they could see Ulana before she… fades. I don’t want to waste what little time we have left with her.” She sighed, rubbing at her temple, “And the longer it takes to raise them, the greater the cost… Roxanne is still unconscious, and—”

     “—Who?” Shinoa interrupted, suddenly feeling confused. She pulled at the Bishop’s arm, leading her down a nearby alley. They could reach the Temple yard through here, no sense in walking all the way to the South Wall avenue.

     “The Gatekeeper,” Nifii replied as Shadowhyn nodded, Shinoa’s eyebrows raising as she considered, “Whatever happened to her, she’s not woken yet.” Mud squelched under their boots as they approached the torch-lit grass ahead. Voices echoed down the alley, the dark wooden walls on either side funneling the sounds toward them.

     “Have you examined her?” the Blade Dancer felt a pulse of worry and fear through her bond, and glanced down at the Bishop, “Can you check on her while we tend to Thainn?”

     “Not yet, no,” the Elder admitted, “and I will.”

     They rounded the end of the alley, entering the wide yard around the Temple. Several villagers had come from the shelter of the sturdy stone building to help the Guildsmen clear debris and arrange the bodies of the fallen. There were several new sheet-covered corpses lined up beside the Gatekeeper’s Well, the misshapen lumps drawing the Bishop’s attention, the red-haired woman slowing down as she tried to look closer. The Dark Elves drew her along, trying to keep her focused. Shinoa could feel her simmering guilt and see it in the crimson creeping up her face.

     As they passed the Well, they saw a small group had gathered near Thainn. Droxanna had knelt next to the bound Warsmith, the better to speak with the Dwarf, while Mauldis sat nearby favoring his leg and arm. Pendragon crouched between the Tyrant and the Warsmith, gently holding a long-necked water skin for Thainn as he chatted with the large Orc. They looked up to see the Bishop and the Drow approaching, smiles and greetings reaching the three women.

     Shadowhyn glanced around quickly, spotted Ulana sitting with Rhianwen, the two mages deep in conversation, then turned back to her Guild mates. She knelt next to Thainn and laid a gentle hand on the Dwarf’s chest, nodding at Droxanna then at Pendragon as he slid back to give her some room. Thainn grinned up at her, and made to lay his hand on hers, grunting with a frown when his hand refused to move. They both glanced down at the ropes holding his limbs in place, and the red-haired woman took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

     “I’d ask you how you feel, but I think we both know,” Shadowhyn’s voice was soft.

     Thainn sighed, trailing off with a cough, “Och, lass, I dinnae think I’ve been worse off, but I ‘ave _felt_ worse‘n this.” He frowned at his feet for a moment before looking back to the Bishop, “I canno’ feel much o’ me, so little less‘n half o’ me’s hurtin’!” He tried to laugh, but it was a tired sound.

     “I aim to set you right,” the woman said with a small smile, “but… I’ve… been having—” Her voice caught in her throat as she stopped to berate herself, _Why are you complaining to him?! He can’t walk because of you!_ Shinoa patted her on the shoulder and Shadowhyn gave a small sigh, _Caught again._

     “We’re all havin’ a rough day, lass,” the Warsmith said as her eyes met his steady gaze, “but it does m’ heart well ta see ya outta tha’ bed in th’ Inn.” He shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment, “Yeh scared this ol’ fool las’ nigh’, ya did.”

     The red-haired woman opened her mouth to speak, but the right words failed to appear. Her face flushed as her thoughts churned, and she settled on a weak, “Sorry...” She ran a hand through her hair, brushing it back behind her ear as she cleared her throat, giving the white-bearded Dwarf a smile. “Let me see what I can do for you,” she said, holding a hand out close to his chest, a small Construct appearing beneath her fingers.

     It was a small scrying spell, to let her see the damage done to his body. She shook her head gently as she closed her eyes, looking deep beneath the surface with her mind’s eye. _He did break his back_ , she sighed, frowning as she opened her eyes. The spell tingled more than usual, but it didn’t hurt. _Small favors._ She sniffed at a tickle in her nose, caught the scent of old coins. She turned to the Overlord, “Thank you for your efforts, Droxy. His back _is_ broken, you did well to secure him like this.”

     The female Orc gently patted the Dwarf’s shoulder, smiling down at him. Shadowhyn looked down at him again, “I’ll… let’s get yo—” A drop ran from her nostril and she clapped a hand to her face, her cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. She sniffed again, wiping at her face with her gloved hand, “Sorry,” she said, chuckling at her own expense, “that’s so emb—”

     “—Are you alright?” Droxanna interrupted, leaning over Thainn’s chest to look at her closely. Pendragon looked over at the Bishop and paused, and she felt Shinoa step around the edge of the Warsmith’s resting place to crouch next to the Overlord.

     “I’m fine, what’s—” Shadowhyn looked down at her hand and saw the fresh blood smeared on the back of her glove. She glanced over at the Blade Dancer and wiped at her face again, scrubbing at her upper lip. “It’s… I’m fine.” Shinoa stood as she crossed her arms and glared, unconvinced. The red-haired woman glanced over at the Tyrant, then held a hand out over the Dwarf, giving him a lopsided smile. She closed her eyes and focused on the Pattern, weaving the fingers of her right hand in a smooth, practiced motion as she drew on her Sacred Art, invoking, “ _Envinyata_.” Quick, familiar steps, leaving no room for hesitance or fear.

     A pair of brilliant golden-white Constructs flared beneath Thainn and Mauldis, roaring columns of amber light swallowing them briefly as the spell took hold. The bound Warsmith twitched and sighed as his injuries were erased, restoring his body, while the Tyrant’s bandages turned to drifting ash, his broken bones knitting, slow-bleeding wounds growing closed.

     Shadowhyn lurched as if struck, falling back as she clutched at her head. Blood poured from her nose, all but the scent and taste of iron drowned out by the white-hot spike of pain in her skull. Voices cried out around her, but the words were washed away by the thundering beat of her heart.

     Shinoa staggered as the Bishop reeled, barely catching the falling woman before she landed in the mud. She hissed as the echo of pain rippled through their bond. “ _Nifii!_ ” the Blade Dancer bellowed, shaking her head to clear the sudden pressure in her ears, trying to steady the thrashing human, “I’ve got you Shadaera, easy now, _easy_ —” She glanced about, trying to spot the Elder through the gathering crowd, “— _Nifii, where are you?!_ ” Pendragon and Droxanna were pulling Thainn’s decking away, giving them space to cut the Dwarf loose as the Warsmith called out questions in a worried tone. Daria and Slifer had run out of the Temple at the sound of raised voices, helping the Tyrant to his feet, Sado peering over the edge of the roof, Rhianwen scrambling to her feet, a frown of concern on her face.

     Ulana appeared next to Shinoa, reaching out to place a hand on—no, _in_ —the Bishop’s forehead, and the frail human went limp, her hands falling away from her face. She laid the red-haired woman’s arms at her sides, pulling her borrowed cloak closed over her tattered robes. “ _Sister, what happened?_ ” the Summoner asked, glancing at the Blade Dancer as the younger Drow turned toward the Elder elbowing her way through to kneel on Shadowhyn’s other side.

     “She healed Thainn and Mauldis, and _this_ happened,” Shinoa gestured at the blood bubbling from the red-haired woman’s nostrils, the purple, mottled skin around her eyes. Nifii thumbed her eyelids open and frowned at the dark red orbs. “Something similar happened when she tried to raise DragonClaw.”

     The buzz of conversation around them halted, the gathering Guild Members going silent as they considered the magnitude of what had been said. As Nifii chanted an incantation, a glowing Construct spinning between her fingers, multiple voices began speaking at once.

     “She _hasn’t_ resurrected DragonClaw yet,” Rhianwen realized as she crouched next to Nifii, watching the Elder’s healing spell wash over the human. The bruising on her face faded away, and the woman took a deep, shuddering breath.

     “If _she_ can’t, who can?” Mauldis’ voice rumbled over the other questions.

     “What about the other dead?” Droxanna asked softly.

     Slifer sighed as he watched symbols flicker within a Construct hanging in the air between his hands, “She can’t.” Shinoa looked at the Sorcerer, a question on the tip of her tongue, but Ulana placed a hand on her arm, drawing her attention.

     “ _I need to speak with her when she wakes,_ ” the Summoner said as she began to stand, “ _I will return in a moment._ ” Shinoa watched as she vanished, before a groan from the red-haired woman drew her eyes.

     “Can we send for another Bishop?” Pendragon asked.

     Nifii shook her head as Rhianwen replied, “No.” The Elder added, quickly, “The Gatekeeper is still unconscious.”

     Daria put a hand on her forehead, “The Ferry isn’t due back for at least two weeks.”

     “Shadaera,” Shinoa ignored her Guild Mates as she asked, “how do you feel?”

     The Bishop blinked her eyes, slowly focusing on the Blade Dancer’s face. She was dimly aware that she was half-laying on the ground, half-propped up against the Blade Dancer. Shinoa’s arms held her close, but she couldn’t remember... “ _hh—why?_ ” she responded, her voice weak.

     “How many healing spells did you cast?” Nifii asked suddenly, before the Blade Dancer could answer the woman’s question. Shinoa opened her mouth to speak, but the Elder held up her hand, motioning her to be patient.

     “I’m… so tired…” Shadowhyn said, wrapping her cloak around her tightly and leaning into Shinoa’s arms, “Feels like… ten? Or...” Her head rolled back as if she were going to fall asleep, but her brow furrowed, her eyes snapping open. “Wait, what happened?” she asked the Drow, twisting to clutch at Shinoa’s arm, worry in her voice, “Is Thainn—”

     “—You healed him,” Nifii raised her hand in assurance, “he and Mauldis both.” Slifer bent down to whisper in Rhianwen’s ear. “But using Sacred magic _severely_ injured you…” Nifii glanced at the pair of mages before continuing, “I don’t know if you should try again.”

     Shadowhyn stared at the Elder as the Dark Elf smiled kindly, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. Nifii looked at Shinoa, nodding toward the Temple as she turned her eyes back to the red-haired woman, “You should go change, Shadaera. Take a moment to freshen up, and we will work on this... together.” The human nodded, numbly, allowing the Blade Dancer to help her to her feet. As Shinoa walked the weary woman to the stone staircase leading inside, the Elder turned to face the Sorcerer and the Spellsinger. “Out with it,” Nifii said.

     Slifer shared a frown with Rhianwen as he spoke, “She’s… not a Bishop anymore.”

      

***

      

     Her room was dark when Shinoa opened the door, the flickering candles from the hallway casting a dim light into her quarters. She thought of long summer nights spent alone, sitting on her bed with a book in hand, the runes in her staff set aglow to light the pages as she read. _I don’t even have my staff,_ she sighed, rubbing at her elbow with her other hand as she concentrated on a simple Pattern she learned as a novice. A glowing ball of light appeared above her head, a steady yellow warmth filling her small bedroom. She stared into the room, unmoving, until Shinoa led her inside and shut the door behind them.

     She stood silently for a long moment before turning to face the Blade Dancer, “What… what do I _do?_ ” she asked. She knew the question was unfair. Shinoa wouldn’t have the answer she was looking for, but she _had_ to ask it. She could think of nothing else to say, she could think of _nothing_ _else_.

     But the Dark Elf answered right away, “You should change.”

     Her mouth opened, but it took a moment for her to reply, “…what?”

     Shinoa smiled gently, waving a hand toward the red-haired woman’s clothes, “You should get rid of those robes,” she said as she dropped the Bishop’s singed sword belts on her narrow bed before leaning against the wooden door, crossing her arms over her chest. “Looks like you’ll not be saving them. First things first, yes?”

     Shadowhyn looked down at her old, familiar robes. They were muddy, bloody, and blackened, great portions burned away. Most of her jacket had crumbled apart, the undershirt and skirt on the left side were barely hanging together. The skirt was in poor shape overall, and her face flushed crimson as she realized how much of her skin was showing. She looked at her hands, only one of which still had a sapphire glove. “You’re right,” she said quietly. The Dark Elf felt the human’s wave of nostalgia as if it were her own. After a long moment, it turned into a sense of bittersweet acceptance. _First things first_.

     “And…” the Bishop continued as she pulled off her mud-stained glove, “I don’t need them anymore.” She pulled a bin out from under her desk, tossing the glove in as she crouched to untie her boots. Shinoa stretched as the stockings and jacket remnants were tossed in the bin, her muscles sore from the long day of battle. The Dark Elf glanced at the human’s back when she pulled off the blood-stained undershirt, her eyes traced the jagged, puckered scar that angled up to the human’s shoulder, the delicate lines of the Soulless’ _jitai_ just below the back of her neck. Humming as she scrubbed the mud off her arms and legs with a damp cloth, the Bishop ignored the flicker of guilt she felt from the Blade Dancer.

     Once the blue-and-white skirt went into the bin, Shadowhyn reached for her plain white cotton gown, pulling it on over her head. She threw on her clean gray cloak and slipped on a sandal. As she stood on one foot to pull on the other sandal, she leaned against her desk chair for balance. She glanced down at the letter on her desk and paused, reading the words she had hastily scribbled that morning. She could still feel the fear, taste the bitter desperation in the back of her throat. _So much and so little has changed…_ She looked up as Shinoa’s heavy footfalls echoed through the small room, the Blade Dancer placing a hand on her shoulder as she glanced down at the parchment. Her glowing eyes danced across the page.

     Shinoa frowned, ever so slightly, and Shadowhyn felt so, so small. She turned to face the Dark Elf, looking up at her bright amber eyes. She placed her hand on the Drow’s wrist, rubbing the back of her hand with her thumb. “I should have told you the truth, this morning,” the red-haired woman’s voice was soft, “I… felt it would distract you, and you would need your focus in the coming battle. I am sorry for deceiving you.”

     The young Drow smiled sadly and nodded as the Bishop finished apologizing, chuckling softly to herself before replying. “You were wrong, _and_ you were right.” She put her free hand on the human’s other shoulder, “You made a tactical decision, perhaps the right one.” She paused and smiled at the smaller woman before squeezing her shoulders and shaking her for a moment, “But now? I am oath-bound to protect you. The All-Mother has given me this duty!” She bent slightly to stare the grinning human in the eyes, the red-haired woman glancing away with a giggle, “ _No more secrets_.”

     Shadowhyn nodded, and ran her hands through her hair, pushing it back over her ears, smiling wide as she laughed, “All right, _alright_ , no more secrets.” She sighed, her levity fading quickly as she remembered why they had come upstairs. “I-I need to check my books.” She turned quickly to crouch before her bookcase, running a finger along the leather spines. “Maybe there’s something here that can help us?” She blinked back tears, choked down the uselessness clawing around her gut, “S-something to explain why…”

     Ulana appeared in a swirl of luminescence, motes of light streaking through the air to draw her familiar shape. She was less, somehow, than she had been before. Less filled in, less solid. She nodded to Shinoa, as if she knew that the Blade Dancer had noticed. She knelt next to the human and placed a shining hand on her shoulder, “ _Shadaera, do you have my journal?_ ”

     “Oh? Of course, I have it right here,” the Bishop answered as she pulled the thin leather-bound book from the bookshelf. Still crouching, she turned on her heels, steadying herself with her free hand as she faced the Summoner’s shade, “Did… did you _need_ it? I mean—”

     “— _You both must come with me, there are things to discuss before…_ ” she paused to sigh, giving the red-haired woman a wistful smile, “ _Before I must go._ ” Shadowhyn nodded slowly, standing with the luminous Drow as Ulana reached for Shinoa. The Blade Dancer approached, taking her sister’s hand. “ _We’ll go to the Golem wreckage,_ ” Ulana nodded as she closed her eyes.

     Shinoa’s reply was swallowed by a dazzling swirl of light, and the Bishop’s quarters were once again dark and empty.

      

***

      

     The North Road spun into solidity at their feet. The distant crackle of flames and the gentle whistle of the ocean breeze touched their ears, the stench of the undead and the smoldering battlefield sang in their nostrils. Shadowhyn wavered briefly, but both of her companions held her upright. They stood before the remains of the Siege Golem; great wooden beams and thick iron plates were crumpled and twisted, debris scattered along the edge of the road and down the gentle slope to the nearby North Beach.

     Ulana turned to face the smaller human, “ _Turn to the end of my journal_.” Shadowhyn nodded with a shrug, turning the leather tome in her hands until she had it upright, flipping the back cover open. “ _A few pages in, yes, right there,_ ” Ulana pointed as the red-haired woman flipped several pages, Patterns and other diagrams littering the thin vellum with small, fine-lettered notes nearby. The page Ulana indicated had two circular Patterns, drawn in faded ink on the browning page. Each diagram had a title and an incantation, which Shadowhyn paused to read before looking back to the Summoner.

     “’Flame Strike’ and… ‘Twister’?” the red-haired woman said, guessing the simple common names for the Elven spells. “What do you need with these?”

     “ _I do not need them, Shadaera,_ ” Ulana’s voice was soft, uncertain, “ _But_ you _might have need of them, in your travels_.”

     “In my—” the frail woman snorted, “ _Travels!?_ I’ve not— I’m— Ulana, _what_ —” Shinoa placed a hand on the human’s shoulder and she stopped talking, looking back at the silent Blade Dancer before turning to face the Summoner. “Why would _I_ need these?” Shadowhyn asked hesitantly, holding the journal higher as she spoke.

     Ulana looked at the book in her hands for a long moment before meeting her emerald eyes. “ _You are a Phantom Summoner, now._ ” The Bishop stared at her, speechless, and the luminous Drow continued, “ _You could call the Soulless due to our Life Bond. You were marked with its_ jitai _, you and I shared the blood-price, that night._ ” She motioned back at the Village, the fitfully smoking North Gate behind them, “ _Calling it again, killing yourself with Holy magic? When the All-Mother raised you,_ again _, mind you,_ ” the Summoner pointed at the human’s hands, “ _She raised you as Hers._ ”

     Despite the warmth of the slowly setting sun’s golden gaze, Shadowhyn felt a chill when she looked at her arm, looked _closely_ at it for the first time that evening. Her left hand and her arm down past the elbow were a light gray, faint white veins tracing the bottom of her wrist and forearm. It was the same shape as her other hand, but… she continued to stare at a part of herself turned _foreign_ , her thoughts floundering. They spun and turned, leading nowhere. She worked her jaw, but her tongue was frozen. Shinoa stepped forward to stand beside the smaller human and asked, “How? _Why?_ For what purpose did the All-Mother do this?”

     “ _I do not know how_ ,” Ulana spread her hands and shrugged, “ _and I do not know why._ ”

     “Is this… permanent? Can she be a Bishop again?” Shinoa watched Shadowhyn out of the corner of her eye, the woman nodding along with her questions, still too shocked to speak for herself. The Blade Dancer could feel her panic bubbling in the back of her mind.

     “ _She will need to go to the Tetrearch. Thiefiell may have her perform the Trials,_ ” Ulana sneered when she spoke the Elders name, anger still simmering there. “ _Once she’s proven herself as a Summoner, she… should… be able to reclaim her previous Title.”_ Shadowhyn stood still and silent, staring down at the Patterns in the Summoner’s journal. Ulana pointed to one, “ _Try this on the wreckage. You’ll... understand.”_

     The red-haired woman studied the Pattern, committing its structure to memory. She read through the incantation, getting a sense of its shape, of the way it would bend the elements to her will. Her eyes flicked over the small notes Ulana had written; glyphs marking the amount of Mana required vs. destructive energy generated. She smiled, _Ulana was so thorough in her studies._ She frowned, thinking of the pain she had endured while trying to heal her old friends. _That’s what_ this _should do to me_ , she sighed, placing her gray thumb on the Pattern as she pointed her other hand at the broken Dwarven machinery. Invoked. “ _Sul’arrna!_ ”

     The air around her twisted and cracked, a howling torrent leaping from her fingertips towards the Golem remnants. Her hair and dress danced and snapped in the wind. The dust and dirt at her feet tumbled and swirled around her legs, her cloak billowing upwards. A pulverizing vortex of sand and rocks shattered the wreckage, grinding and breaking the pieces further as the winds whipped over them, tossing the broken clockwork out into the water.

     Ulana grinned and clapped her hands as wooden fragments pelted the beach, sand and dust drifting from the sky. Shadowhyn and Shinoa stared, one dumbfounded and the other confused. The human closed the journal, holding it tightly with both white-knuckled hands. She bowed her head and took a deep, ragged breath. “ _Wh—what do I_ do _, Ula?_ ” she whispered, tears welling in the corners of her eyes as she looked at the Dark Elf’s shade, “ _A wind storm won’t help me resurrect DragonClaw_.”

     The spectral Summoner looked at Shadowhyn once again, clasping the red-haired woman’s hands gently. “ _This is… another test for you,_ ” Ulana spoke soft and slow, “ _I am truly sorry, I know this is not what you wanted to hear_.”

     “I don’t—I don’t know _anything_ about being a Summoner!” Shadowhyn’s voice was shrill, tinged with panic and fear. She staggered two steps away from Ulana before spinning back to face her, both hands at her temples, fingers full of flame-red strands. “How can I—” the words caught in her throat and she looked at Shinoa as she started to laugh. Shinoa could see, could feel, what was coming, and reached out to wrap her arms around the woman. “How? Ha, haha—” She bit her bottom lip and sucked air in through her teeth, staring down at her feet, hands trembling. “How can I face our friends? How can I tell them I… I can’t?” The words were so quiet, the wind nearly stole them. “ _How can I let Emma down like this?_ ”

     “ _Some things_ ,” Ulana said with sorrow, “ _are beyond us, Shadaera._ ”

     “I’m just going to have to try again!” Shadowhyn snarled, her face darkening in fury, pulling away from the Blade Dancer to turn toward the Village.

     “ _No!_ ” Ulana growled, grabbing at the red-haired woman’s arm, twisting her around as she snapped, “ _You will_ kill _yourself if you try to bring her back again!_ ” She glared down at the smaller mage, and her green eyes returned the heated gaze.

     “I don’t _care!_ What good am I if—” Shadowhyn bit the words off with a flinch when she realized what she was about to say. Her face flushed darker yet, embarrassment chasing the anger off her cheeks. She looked at Shinoa, still standing silently, arms crossed, radiating confusion and hurt as she observed their argument. “Forgive me, Sister,” she said to the Blade Dancer, “I would have dishonored your efforts on my behalf.” The ex-Bishop turned back to Ulana and frowned before holding her arms out, stepping forward to embrace the Summoner’s luminous form. “I’m sorry, Sister,” she said into her shimmering shoulder, “I… I am afraid.”

     “Perhaps there’s someone you can teach?” Shinoa said gently, “As Ulana taught you?”

     The thought hadn’t occurred to the red-haired woman, and she gripped the Summoner’s shoulders tight, her mind racing. “I—there might?” She turned to face the Blade Dancer, grabbing her hands as she bounced on her toes in excitement. “Shinoa, that’s brilliant!” she cried as she threw her arms around the Dark Elf’s neck, laughing, and the young Drow coughed in surprise as the small woman’s unexpected weight bent her forward. “Thank you! I-I have to go see!” The human skipped backward a few steps and waved, before turning to run towards the North Gate.

     Shinoa cast a guilty look at her sister, rubbing the back of her neck. Ulana stepped close to her, clapping her on the shoulder, “ _I am not angry with you, Shin,_ ” the specter said with a small smile, “ _I fear she will be disappointed, but I know you will care for her, whatever may happen._ ” Ulana looked up at the deepening sky, the stars beginning to shine from their place in the spheres. She sighed, glancing over at her younger sister before turning her gaze to the white-and-gray clad woman running towards the Village. “ _I love you, Shin. Don’t forget how proud I am of you._ ”

     The Blade Dancer watched her sister smirk at the effect her words had; she could feel her face turning red at the unexpected affection. “I… I l-love you too, Ula.” She rubbed at the back of her neck again with a shy grin, thankful for the kind words. “I am glad I have the chance to say that to you again,” she watched Ulana nod in agreement before deciding to ask what was really weighing on her mind. “How… how long?”

     The Summoner gave her a faint smile, “ _Perhaps until sunrise, if_ that _long._ ” She motioned toward the Village, and the two Dark Elves began to walk side by side. “ _I’m surprised Shilen has granted this much time, but She does as She does._ ”

     Shinoa focused on the bright, flickering flame in the back of her mind and smiled, “She’s… happy. Worried, afraid, and guilty too. But when she sees you?” The Blade Dancer shook her head gently, making vague gestures with one hand as she cast about for the right words, “You are her whetstone.” She glanced at her sister and was relieved when Ulana nodded. _She always understood me_ , the young Drow laughed quietly as she continued, “I will do my best to follow your example.”

     The Dark Elf stopped short, staring off to the West before grimacing, “I just—ah!” She turned to face Ulana, the Summoner gazing back with an eyebrow raised. “I forgot something,” Shinoa said as she raised her hands, palms together, “ _Saesa_ , Sister, I could use your help.”

      

***

      

     Her heart was pounding by the time she hopped over the fallen timbers at the North Gate, and her thoughts were spinning in circles. She returned a wave to the workmen at the Wall as she ran past. _Maybe! Maybe, maybe, maybe!_ She knew it was a thin chance, but she would grasp at any hope she could find. Her legs were getting tired from running, but she pressed on. She could rest after everyone was awake. _Or after you fail!_ She shook her head, trying to keep that small, irritating voice from needling her, from pointing out her every flaw and failure. Her steady pace carried her through the Village Square, and she noticed the empty patch of ground where DragonClaw had lain. _They must have moved her to the Temple yard?_

     She slowed as she turned into the alley they had taken earlier; her shaky legs unsteady on the muddy grass. She hissed as pain flared in her side, _Ah! Ran too far_ , and she stopped to lean against the nearby wooden building. Shadowhyn gasped, taking deep breaths to calm the hammering in her chest, rubbing at the protesting muscles over her ribs as she took small, hesitant steps down the wood-and-brick canyon. She could see the flickering torchlight up ahead and hear the voices of her Guild mates.

     _All I must do_ , she groaned as she stepped too far, _is find someone with some mystics training_. There were some in Einhovant’s School, but she had no idea if anyone there had survived the waves of Undead. _I can check there next if I must_. But she knew she didn’t have much time, ‘Resurrection’ was only viable for so long after death.

     As Shadowhyn stepped into the yard, she heard Sado yell “Nifii, she’s back!” from the Temple roof. Nifii was already running to grab her by the shoulders, Rhianwen only a pace or two behind. They started asking questions at the same time.

     “Where have you been?” “Where’s Shinoa?” “We could hear a blast from the North Road, what happened?” “Is Ulana still with us?” Shadowhyn raised her hands, waving for them to slow down. She glanced over their shoulders and saw Dadrabian and Pendragon standing by a new addition to the row of sheet-draped bodies.

     “Nifii, I-I can’t—!” Shadowhyn said quickly, catching a momentary break in their deluge of questions, forcing the words out even as the guilt tried to choke them, “I can’t raise them.”

     The Elder and the Spellsinger shared a look before Nifii stepped aside for Rhianwen to grasp the human’s hands. “We know things are… _different_ for you,” the fair-haired Elf stated, to the smaller woman’s surprise, “Slifer told us after your healing spell backfired. He recognized the signs right away.”

     “ _You_ … _you_ _know?_ ” Shadowhyn’s voice was an airy, timid whisper, and she couldn’t help how her shoulders slumped with the weight of her fear. She feared scorn, perhaps, or disappointment at the least, but all she felt from them was concern. “You’re not _angry_ with me?” she asked before her courage was completely spent.

     Rhianwen laughed, “Angry? Oh, sweet child, it’s not as if you changed on purpose! Did you even know?” The human shook her head with a small noise, and the Spellsinger pulled her close, wrapping one arm around her shoulders as the other hand ran through the smaller woman’s red tresses, her forehead held firm against the Elf’s jaw. “We can only react to the Goddesses whims, Shadaera, you of all—” Rhianwen coughed before starting on a different tack, “But, I _know_ you’re plotting something,” she said with an audible sneer, her eyes smiling.

     Shadowhyn scoffed into her collarbone and nodded, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the comforting embrace, “ _I_ can’t resurrect them anymore, but I might be able to help someone else do it.” She opened her eyes as the Elf pulled away quickly, gripping her arms tight as she stared down at her with fear in her gaze. The red-haired woman soldiered on, “If Nifii can be our conduit, I can h—”

     “Shadaera…” Rhianwen interrupted, glancing at Nifii before focusing on the small human, speaking slowly, “DeeCee would not want you to hurt yourself on her account.”

     The Elder nodded as she stepped close, “She only wanted you to be safe and well, and… her sacrifice made that possible.”

     Shadowhyn sighed as she looked down at the ground, rubbing the toe of her sandal into a clump of mud and grass. “I know… I just…” She wiped at her eyes before looking up at the Elves, “She had such faith in me… even at the end.” The human wrung her hands together as she considered her words, “She gave her all for me. I _have_ to try, I’ll not be able to forgive myself if I don’t.” She tried to meet their eyes but settled on staring over their shoulders at the Paladin’s white-draped corpse, “If we _must_ say goodbye… I would have no regrets.”

     The Elves stepped back as Rhianwen raised her arm, motioning toward the Temple yard. “Go, then,” the Spellsinger said gently, “and may Eva bless your efforts.” Shadowhyn gently laid a hand on the tall Elf’s shoulder as she walked past.

     Nifii walked alongside the ex-Bishop, her long legs easily pacing the shorter human. “Who are we looking for, exactly?” the Elder asked, bending to speak conspiratorially. As they walked past where her Lance had been planted point-down in the soft, muddy ground, she reached out and snatched it free, spinning it lazily as she slung it over her shoulder. She saw the red-haired woman grin at the easy confidence with which she handled the long spear. “A human, obviously, but with _some_ training?”

     Shadowhyn nodded as she rubbed her hands together, Ulana’s journal tucked under her arm. Once again she wished she had her staff; something solid and familiar to ground herself with. “Yes, someone who’s learned some novice spells.” She glanced up at the Elder, “If you provide a bridge for us, I can supply the Mana and visualize the Pattern for them to focus on. They’ll just need to, uh,” she waved her hand dismissively, “put it all together.” She nodded, confident, “It should be fine.”

     “And if it’s not?” Nifii asked, carefully, “I will help as much as I am able, but I will _not_ let you kill yourself.” Her mouth twisted into a sad smile, “She would be quite unhappy with me.”

     Shadowhyn placed a hand on Nifii’s arm as they neared the Temple doors, “Believe me, I’m not looking to waste this… _third_ chance I’ve been given.” She looked down at her hands, one gray, one pink, and stopped walking as she considered them. She lifted them up, holding them in the fading sunlight so the Elder could see them clearly. “I must discover what Shilen has in store for me.”

     Nifii nodded, wrapping both hands around the haft of her Lance as she leaned her shoulder against its length, “When the All-Mother restored you, She didn’t call you _Fallaner_ or ‘Healer’ like She did before, She called you _amin hyarya_ _cam_ … which means ‘my left hand’,” she reached out to hold her own hand alongside the ex-Bishop’s, comparing their shades of gray. “Shilen has a sense of humor,” the Elder smiled at the red-haired woman, “and if you ask me, _I_ believe She is fond of you.”

     The human laughed as she stepped toward the open Temple door. “Thank you for your kind words, Nifii,” she smiled back at the Elder before setting her jaw and drawing her hands into fists at her sides.

     She closed her eyes and drew a simple Pattern in her mind’s eye, holding a small amount of Mana as she muttered the incantation under her breath. As she slowly opened her eyes, she could see the change in the air around her. She glanced over her shoulder to see Nifii glowing gently with shades of gold and white, a bright ripple of light dancing around her eyes. Shadowhyn looked down at herself, half-expecting to see her familiar reddish-gold aura. Instead, red flickered and danced with a purple so dark it appeared black. _I… may never get used to that_ , she thought with dismay.

     Shadowhyn stepped into the Temple, the stone antechamber echoing with the hushed voices and murmured prayers of the villagers. Wooden racks held books, with long rows of candlesticks lighting the room with a flickering yellow glow. Several men and women were standing at the racks, but they did not hold her attention. She walked forward, the nave opening on her right, the long red carpet for its center aisle muffling her footsteps. The red-haired woman walked slowly through the rows of benches, looking for a glimmer of hope.

     _There_. A muted flicker against the wall near the chancel. Granted, there were others, several in fact. But this was the brightest. She stepped down a side aisle, Nifii following at a distance, and as Shadowhyn drew near the source, she felt the guilt slide like a knife deep into her heart.

     Daria looked up from where she sat on the floor, her back against the stone wall, and smiled at the red-haired woman. Joan and Lydia sat with her, nestled in close, their heads on the blonde woman’s shoulders, her arms wrapped around the young ladies on either side. Both girls were dirty and tired, with tracks of tears marking their faces. They looked up at her, Joan giving her a small smile that she could not return, her eyes locked on Lydia, the fear and pain in her eyes masked slightly by her reddish-white aura. _They should be happy! She should still have a brother!_ that spiteful voice spoke from the guilt roiling in her gut, the shame burning its way up the back of her throat.

     She sat abruptly, intending to kneel but changing her mind partway through, and stared at the floor before covering her face with her hands. _Of course, it would be her_. Could she really ask this much from this girl, after everything else? Nifii approached, kneeling gracefully beside her clumsy companion and gave the others a kind smile. Her eyes settled on Lydia before looking down at Shadowhyn, who had yet to look up.

     “What,” Lydia croaked, her voice hoarse from grief, her red-rimmed eyes still damp with sorrow, “Why were you looking at me?”

     The young woman watched as Shadowhyn pulled herself upright, drawing her knees below herself to sit, before the red-haired woman leaned forward to bow her head. “I am sorry,” Shadowhyn said, her voice wet and halting, “I am sorry you were there, that you saw such terrible things.” She raised her head to look first at Lydia, then at Joan, “I did not protect you well enough. I failed you.”

     Daria and Joan simply listened, but Lydia looked away and muttered, “Not _just_ me.”

     “You’re right,” Shadowhyn replied gently, ignoring the sting of the girl’s remark, “and now… I need to ask you to help me.” Lydia’s eyes met hers in an instant, and the red-haired woman continued, “I... I need your help to cast a spell.”

     Lydia snorted, but sat up straight, interested. “ _My_ help? What can I do that you can’t?”

     The red-haired woman grimaced and raised a hand to rub the back of her neck, “It’s… I’m…” She sighed, and her shoulders slumped.

     Nifii set a hand on her shoulder and looked at the three others, “Could you come outside in a few minutes? It would best to discuss such matters under the open sky.”

      

***

      

     Twilight was fast approaching, the dull orange sun sinking, soon to settle on the Western Range. Shadowhyn stood by DragonClaw’s corpse, gray cloak wrapped tight around her body, satchel heavy around her neck. She had her eyes closed and her face raised toward the sky, like a flower, soaking up the sun’s rays. She felt cold. Once, she could sense—she could _feel_ —the golden light of the Sacred Arts being used in and around the Temple. It was calming and familiar, and now… absent. _She had a purpose. She had a purpose. She had a purpose._ She knew the Gods were fickle and capricious, inscrutable. Shilen had brought her back the first time for a reason, and now, _now_ , when she felt so lost and adrift, she had to cling to that hope.

     Her thoughts turned to the young Blade Dancer and she concentrated on their bond, feeling a sense of elation, a taste of satisfaction. Wistful happiness. _She must still be with Ulana_. She frowned at that, grimacing, as conflicting emotions turned and twisted in her chest. _I’m squandering her time here_. _I have duties, she understands._ _I should be with her, not here_. _If not I, then whom?_ There were no good answers.

     She sighed and turned, opening her eyes to look at Lydia. _The poor child._ The young woman had been staring at Lysander’s body with a blank expression, but she turned her eyes toward the red-haired woman when she moved. The two gazed at each other for a long moment before Lydia spoke, “You’re a Bishop... I thought you could resurrect people.” Then, with venom in her voice, “You must hate my brother.”

     Shadowhyn looked down at the ground, at her sandaled feet half hidden by her cloak. “This _morning_ I was a Bishop.” The brown-haired girl wrinkled her brow, eyes narrowing as she stared at the older woman. “Now,” the red-haired woman stated, “I am not.” She took a step toward the trader’s daughter, her voice pitched low, a touch resentful, “I can no longer use Holy magic, m-my Sacred Arts. Simple spells injure me now, something as complex as…” Her voice trailed off as she looked at the crimson-marked sheets covering the dead, exhaling.

     Lydia glanced at the bodies before shaking her head, “So, why did you come get me?”

     “I think—I _hope_ —that you can use my Art. That Nifii can act as a bridge for you and me,” Shadowhyn said, speaking faster when she felt Lydia was starting to not listen, “that you can cast the Resurrection spell _in my stead_ to bring them back.”

     “ _You_ think this will work?” Lydia asked, glancing over her shoulder to look at Nifii. Daria and Joan stood near the Elder, and they turned to her to see her reaction.

     She smiled and spread her hands, “There’s a chance.”

     “Is this dangerous?” Daria spoke quickly, glancing between the red-haired woman and the tall Dark Elf, “Could Lydia get hurt?” She wrapped her arms around Joan’s head and neck protectively, clasping the young Dwarf’s hands.

     Shadowhyn sighed again and shrugged, “There’s a chance.”

     Joan asked, “Could Sister Shadowhyn get hurt?”

     Nifii snorted, “There’s definitely a ch—”

     “— _Perhaps_ ,” Shadowhyn interrupted, glaring at the Elder for a moment as the Dark Elf smiled sweetly back at her. “But… I have to try.” The red-haired woman looked at Lydia, her eyes unreadable as they examined the young woman. “I hate to ask it of you, Lydia,” She said carefully, “I feel as though I’m _using_ you.” She looked at the ground for several heartbeats before speaking again, “Like Lysander is a bribe to take advantage of you.”

     “He wouldn’t _be_ a bribe,” Lydia’s face darkened as she clenched her fists, “if your _pet Elf killer_ hadn’t murdered him!”

     Joan gasped and Nifii raised an eyebrow as she watched Shadowhyn stiffen, her knuckles white around the strap of her shoulder bag. “Lydia!” Daria called, “What are you—”

     “Your brother,” Shadowhyn’s voice was a rigid, fragile thing, “was—”

     “—drooling over her _and_ _then_ _she killed him!_ ” Lydia stomped her foot as she burst into tears, “Who _does_ that?!”

     “ _I DO!_ ” Shadowhyn yelled, throwing her arms wide in exasperation, watching Lydia shy back in surprise. “ _I_ would have killed him, or bloody well tried if I hadn’t already been _dying_ ,” she grated as she motioned at the bloodied, scorched patch of earth in the yard. The red-haired woman stepped close and gripped the girl’s shoulders, “Your brother was possessed by a _powerful_ , ancient evil, and the only way to end that threat was to end your brother’s life.” She caught Lydia’s bloodshot eyes as she spoke again, “It was a _mercy_ to him, as well. Lysander was still in there, _trapped_ , his body being controlled… Made to do _terrible_ things.”

     She let the girl go to run her hands through her hair, pulling it back away from her face. “I’m _sorry_ , Lydia. I honestly did not expect to survive the battle,” Shadowhyn said, throwing a guilty look toward Nifii, “and in the moment, I had to weigh your brother’s life against everyone else on the Island. _I_ told Shinoa to kill him, if I failed. _Me!_ ” She gestured to herself with both hands, “Be angry with _me_ , because it’s _my fault_ he’s dead.” The older woman looked at the rows of bodies, white sheets glowing in the evening sun, her voice dripping with sorrow, “They’re _all_ my fault.”

     Shadowhyn glanced back at the brown-haired girl, speaking quietly now, “And this plan I have now? I don’t know if it will work. I’m _scared_ that it won’t, that they’ll all have died _because_ _of_ _me_.” She looked down at the Paladin’s broken form and wiped at the tears running from her eyes, “That I can’t _fix_ it this time. There are rules to this magic, rules that I’ve broken before… which means I’m running out of time, and you, Lydia, right now… Without you, I don’t have a chance.” She turned to face the young woman again and bowed her head. “I need your help,” Shadowhyn said hesitantly, “I’ve no right to ask it of you, but… Please?”

     Lydia watched and listened, staring at the red-haired woman as she considered her words. Anger still simmered in her chest, but the not-a-Bishop’s explanation rang true. She had seen how he changed when that… that _aura_ had swallowed him. It all made sense, but she didn’t have to like it. She pulled her long hair over her ear when a gust of wind blew it into her face. She set her jaw as she made her decision. She held out her hand, “My brother first.”

     Shadowhyn was silent for a long moment. _It may only work once. It may not work at_ all _. You owe him. You owe her! But he didn’t deserve to die._ She firmly grasped the young woman’s hand as her heart sank. _She deserves it._ She slowly nodded. “Yes. Your brother first.” _He may still be dangerous._

     Nifii approached slowly, holding a hand out to touch the red-haired woman’s arm, “Are you certain?” she asked. Shadowhyn looked at her. _She knows_. She could tell the Elder knew what their chances were.

     The red-haired woman took a deep breath and nodded before turning back to the young woman. “I don’t know if Lysander will be… different, having been enthralled by the Black Mage.” She looked at Lydia for a long moment before deciding to just _say_ it. “If he’s still a threat, if he tries to hurt anyone… we may have to put him down again.”

     A tear fell as Lydia closed her eyes, nodding slowly in agreement. “ _But we’ll have tried_ ,” she whispered.

     “We’ll have tried,” Shadowhyn echoed, gently squeezing her hand.

     “—ter, I _told_ you, I could have run back,” Shinoa’s voice split the heavy silence as the Blade Dancer and the spectral Summoner _popped_ into the Temple yard several paces away. The stench of smoke and burnt marrow drifted away from the Dark Elves as they approached, Shinoa’s armor looking dirtier than it had out by the Siege Golem.

     “ _You can’t deny_ my _way was faster_ ,” Ulana laughed. She caught Shadowhyn’s eye and smiled, “ _And it looks like we were right on time._ ” The red-haired woman smiled in return, but it began to fade as she noticed how _thin_ Ulana appeared to be.

     Shinoa rolled her eyes and grumbled, “You are _never_ wrong, are you?” She glanced at Lydia, and Shadowhyn felt a flicker of guilt in the back of her mind. The Blade Dancer walked to stand next to the red-haired woman, giving her a guilty grin as she pushed her staff into her hands. Shadowhyn’s eyes widened as she gasped in surprise.

     Shinoa turned to face the trader’s daughter. The young Dark Elf and the young human considered one another, before the Blade Dancer pushed her hands through her loose hair to run it back over her ears. Shinoa wore it down for a change, now that the battle was over, and the breeze blew it right back into her face. Her amber eyes were pained, her voice filled with sorrow. “I have killed many in battle, warriors who chose their paths. Warriors trained to fight. Warriors prepared to die. I did not want to kill _him_ ,” the Drow said quietly, looking down at her hands, “He was an innocent. Truly, I am sorry.”

     Lydia drew in a sharp breath, her eyes narrowing as she glanced over at the Bishop. “I am… _trying_ not to be angry with you,” Lydia glared back at the Dark Elf, but saw how she wilted and looked away. “I saw how you fought _for_ him… after. You avenged him.” The girl wiped a tear from her eye as she stepped over to the Blade Dancer, hugging her tight. “ _I should hate you_ ,” she whispered, “ _but I don’t_.”

     Shinoa stiffened for several heartbeats, but then wrapped her arms around the girl, “ _I am so sorry_ ,” she whispered again. Lydia nodded, whispering some comforting words in return.

     Shadowhyn gave the two a sad smile as she looked at her staff, running a hand along its familiar form. The rune-carved wood had taken quite a beating down in the Library; the blackened, blistered top had splintered in places, and new dents and scorch marks marred the long surface. Shadowhyn stood there for a long moment, holding her staff upright with both hands, leaning her forehead against the cracked, blackened wood.

     Nifii rested a hand on the ex-Bishop’s shoulder, her amber eyes pointed toward the horizon. A good third of the sun had fallen behind the mountains on the rim of the Island. “We should prepare,” the Elder said quietly as Shadowhyn nodded. The Dark Elf took a seat at Lysander’s head, crossing her legs as she laid her Lance across her lap, resting her elbows on its worn haft.

     Shadowhyn watched the Elder begin her meditations for only a moment. She turned to Ulana, grabbing the Summoner’s hand— _She feels strangely soft!_ —and pulled her a few steps away. “I should be spending this time with you,” the smaller human said, tilting her head slightly as she looked up at the spectral Dark Elf.

     “ _You have your duty_ ,” Ulana said kindly, “ _Once you are done, we will have time_.”

     “But… you have so little time left!” Shadowhyn said, distraught, “I-I feel so ashamed.” She glanced over her shoulder at the rows of bodies, “I want to just walk away from them and stay close to you.”

     “ _Your heart is too large for_ just _me_ ,” Ulana said gently, “ _It is good to see you working hard to help others_.”

     “This may not go well,” Shadowhyn admitted, “and I don’t want to _lose_ my chance to say goodbye to you. Not again.” She looked up at Ulana as the Summoner smiled sadly. The red-haired woman gently placed her hand on the Dark Elf spirit’s chest, where her heart once beat. This time she felt nothing beneath her fingers. “I have missed you more than I can say, dearest one, and I will never forget you.” Tears glistened in their eyes as the human took a deep breath, “You helped me to be better… in every way. My world is _less_ without you.”

     Ulana gently wrapped her arms around the smaller human, pulling her close in a tender embrace. “ _Heart of my heart, I will miss you as well. It hurt to be taken away when you needed me so._ ” She smiled down at the red-haired woman as Shadowhyn nodded, working her face into the curve of her neck. “ _I am thankful we have this time together._ ”

     “ _As am I_ ,” Shadowhyn whispered. She waited several heartbeats before gently pulling away. “I should be done soon,” she said, “Wait for me?” She held onto Ulana’s hand as she walked away, until their fingertips parted.

     “ _Of course_ ,” the Summoner said.

     Shinoa stood behind Nifii, keeping her and the Trader’s daughter company, the tentative-magician sitting cross-legged at Lysander’s shoulder, imitating the Elder’s easy posture. Shadowhyn nodded to the Blade Dancer as she walked over, raising her staff, “Thank you, Shinoa, I had been missing this.” The young Dark Elf waved, attempting to appear aloof with her arms crossed, but the ex-Bishop could tell it was just an act. They shared a fond look before the red-haired woman drew her mouth into a line, “We’re going to attempt to raise Lysander first.”

     Shinoa took a step back, instincts clamoring to reach for the Soul Separator still sheathed at her back, “Are you—” she glanced toward Lydia for a second, balling her hands into fists at her sides, “—sure?” The brown-haired girl looked up, glancing between the two.

     Shadowhyn nodded, “I promised he would be first.” She gave Lydia a soft smile before she spoke again, “Be vigilant. He may not be himself… he may be a danger to us all.” The red-haired woman pulled a thick spellbook from her satchel, flipping pages carefully before setting it down in the grass in front of Lydia. She pointed at the Pattern illustrated there and began a quiet explanation.

     Shinoa reached back to slip the leather ties from her sheathes, letting her long, serrated blades slide into her hands. The Blade Dancer turned about, taking in their surroundings. Mauldis and Lord Viper were carrying partially stripped tree trunks, roughly split by Thainn’s Greataxe, if she considered his flushed and sweaty appearance. Pendragon and Dadrabian had stacked several casks and barrels nearby and were helping the Orcs arrange the kindling for a bonfire. Sado still crouched on the Temple roof, although he could have fallen asleep. She held up a hand to the three other women, “Hold. Wait until I return.”

     She dashed over to where the two humans stood, startling them with her sudden appearance. “Shadaera and Nifii are going to attempt some resurrections,” Shinoa said to the Warlord and the old Knight, “And they promised to raise Lysander first.” The men shared a glance before nodding to the Dark Elf. Dadrabian trotted after Shinoa as she ran back to the young man’s corpse, Pendragon headed for the Temple, where he’d left his Glaive.

     Shinoa stood to Shadowhyn’s right, and Dadrabian to Lydia’s left. The Inn Keeper pulled his shield from his shoulders before drawing his sword. He nodded to Nifii, and the Elder took a deep breath. “We will begin,” the Dark Elf said, as she reached out to take Shadowhyn’s hand with her right, and Lydia’s with her left. She closed her eyes and muttered an incantation, a golden Construct spinning into the air behind her head.

     Shadowhyn closed her eyes, began to draw the Pattern in her mind's eye. Motes of light bent before the three women, the same Pattern tracing itself in the air before the older human’s face. She felt Nifii opening like a door to an oven; Mana glowing hot and bright within. The air around the Elder began to shimmer as their strengths flowed together, a raging flood building between them. The Dark Elf priestess began to guide the rushing river of potential, shaping it into a circle, a thundering whirlpool. She worked slowly and gently, preparing their power for use by the untrained, inexperienced girl.

     “Imagine it, now,” Nifii said with an even tone, “You stand before a deep well.” Lydia closed her eyes and pictured it in the void of her mind: a simple stone well, wooden frame above it with a bucket on a rope. She could see the blinding light shining up from the depths, she could feel the power lurking beneath her feet. “Just draw what you need, when you need it. Pull it _up_ toward you.”

     The brown-haired teen nodded, beads of sweat beginning to form on her brow. If this much power fell into her mind at once, it would… do _something_. Something _bad_. _There’s so much I don’t know_ , she realized, regretting her sudden moment of clarity. Now she knew she should be afraid. She glanced down at the spellbook again, holding her left hand out over her brother’s body. Slowly, carefully, she made the hand motions that matched the syllables of the incantation, reading the ancient Elven words aloud. She could feel the pressure building in her mind, demanding _more_ power to fuel her spell, and she began to pull from the well the two older mages provided. The Pattern before the red-haired woman started to glow with a bright golden light as a Construct fitfully drew itself under Lysander’s corpse.

     Shadowhyn knew the ritual by heart, having studied and practiced the Sacred Arts for so much of her life. She knew the steps, what words came next, when the final phrase would be uttered. Already it felt wrong. Not Lydia’s execution, that was accurate, if understandably hesitant. She would offer the girl some training, if… well… if this didn’t kill them both. She winced as the slow build-up of magic began to burn in her mind, as if she sat too close to a crackling bonfire. Her hands ached, pain running up the lengths of her arms. She hissed and squeezed the Elder’s hand tight, feeling a pulling sensation through her body toward their joined hands. The runes on her staff began to glow, a dull yellow growing to a bright, pure white, as the spell-sigils etched in the metal of Nifii’s staff began to do the same.

     Shinoa could feel the ex-Bishop’s growing discomfort through their bond and tried to calm her own nerves. If she could be a source of serenity, perhaps Shadowhyn would feel it? Her own hands and arms began to ache, sympathetic echoes of the human’s pain. She glanced around the yard, realizing several humans had gathered to watch alongside her Guild mates.

     Lydia held her left hand out over her brother’s body and took a deep breath. “C—

      

***

      

     A high-pitched ringing split the air as the three women were swallowed by a bright white light. Shadowhyn squinted, trying to block out the intensity of their surroundings. Ever so slowly, she could stand to open one eye, just a crack, and after a moment she opened both, completely astonished. She sat on an unbroken plane of water that stretched to the horizon. Brilliantly-white clouds floated in a bright blue sky above them, mirrored perfectly at their feet.

     Nifii blinked slowly, before stiffening in surprise. The air about them was thick with magic, a visible manifestation in the soft breeze. She watched as the red-haired woman stood, the motion causing ripples in the mirrored surface below them. The Dark Elf looked down at the water and could see nothing in the depths. Her reflection stared up at her in confusion.

     Ripples in the water approached them as a blinding glow filled the air. Thunder broke the sky and the three women groaned at the Goddess’s words, Lydia sobbing quietly in fear. The young woman huddled to her hands and knees, hiding her face in her arms, hands over her ears. Nifii clasped her hands and bowed her head in deference as Shadowhyn fell to her knees. The Elder could see nothing through the shining light, but in the water… Her breath caught in her throat as she glimpsed Einhasad’s reflection towering over the ex-Bishop.

     “ _nng—_ Please, I… I need to set this right,” the older human said, bowing to her former Patron, “Your Daughter has—” Another, _longer_ , deafening wave of pressure flowed over them, Lydia whimpering into her hands as Shadowhyn breathed out in a pained rasp.

     “She—I _beg_ of you, allow th—” Lydia trembled beside her and Nifii reached out to place a hand on her back. The girl jumped at her touch, cowering as the Goddess continued the thunderous negotiation. The Elder thought she detected a hint of emotion from the Light-Bearer, but her ears could have deceived her. Shadowhyn’s voice was strained, as if she were under physical duress.

     “ _hhk_ -Can _I_ give any—” A short roaring rumble silenced the red-haired woman.

     Shadowhyn fell to her face, palms together, pressing her forehead to the water’s surface in obeisance. “ _Please_ , it was _my_ fault that—”

     The Goddess’s monologue was a deafening wall of pressure, an avalanche tumbling onto the women. The ex-Bishop nodded, making sounds of affirmation while She spoke.

     Shadowhyn sat up and bowed again, “I humbly thank you, Light o—”

      

***

      

     —uiva!” she called, the word echoing oddly in the open air of the Temple Yard, an eye-watering brightness filling the sky for the barest scrap of a moment. Nifii groaned as the girl _pulled_ , as that well of power in her mind became a fountaining geyser that thundered through her tenuous grasp. She tried to ease the flow, to control it, but the human’s Goddess had taken her by surprise. Shadowhyn’s eyes rolled back and she shuddered as all her strength was sapped in an instant, slumping sideways to the ground next to the seated Elder. Shinoa knelt beside her, fingers on the human’s throat, feeling for a pulse as she continued to stare at the young man. Nifii managed to stem the wild rush of power flowing through the young woman.

     A column of light exploded up through her brother’s corpse as a swirl of wind rushed in to follow. Red, brown, and platinum hair swirled and the pages of the spellbook fluttered as the white linen sheet covering the body was flung high in the air. Lysander gasped, arching his back as he inhaled, breathing back out with a wail and a sob. He rolled onto his side and began to weep, cradling his head in his arms.

     Lydia scrambled away from Nifii, trembling with fear as tears streamed down her face. The Elder rubbed her arms with her hands and shuddered before attempting to comfort the frightened young woman. Shadowhyn weakly lifted an arm to flop the back of her hand against Shinoa’s leg, “ _Shin,_ ” she whispered, “ _he… okay?_ ”

     “He is alive,” Shinoa said flatly as she focused entirely on the boy. He could still be dangerous, and every fiber of her being screamed both to _get_ _away_ from him, and to _stay_ _still_ and not attract his attention. Lysander continued to cry as Dadrabian knelt near him, gingerly touching him on the shoulder, speaking to him softly. “You are exhausted,” the Blade Dancer said, a statement. “What happened?” She watched as Rhianwen and Slifer approached the young man, the Spellsinger tucking her skirt behind her knees as she crouched next to the old Knight, the Sorcerer standing behind her, Constructs spinning between his fingers.

     “ _Einhasad spoke,_ ” the red-haired woman breathed, tears beginning to collect in her eyes, “ _She allowed… one._ ” Shinoa looked down at the frail human and grasped her limp hand, feeling the sorrow that enveloped her. “ _Only one_ ,” the woman whispered as her head fell to the side, her eyelids drifting closed.

     Shinoa laid the sleeping woman’s hands across her chest, folding her cloak around her as the last sliver of the evening sun slipped below the top of the Western Range. _Twilight_ , she thought, _Of course_. The Blade Dancer stood and took a step back as she sheathed her swords with a flourish. She stared up at the star-studded expanse and sighed. She turned back toward Daria and Joan, and slowly approached them. “There will be no more resurrections today. Whom do I…” She paused as she realized how little she knew about human customs, “Daria, h-how are burials handled on the Island?”

     The blonde human’s bottom lip quivered for a moment as she swallowed. “There are…” she coughed as emotion clogged her throat, “I’ll check with the Priests… There should be something we can do.” She cast her eyes down at the ground, hugging Joan tightly against herself for a moment as she took an unsteady breath, “I’m so sorry, Shinoa.” The young dwarf reached out to squeeze the Blade Dancer’s hand.

     The young Dark Elf nodded sadly, somehow not yet paralyzed by her grief. _Maybe it doesn’t seem real yet?_ She tried to give the human and the Dwarf a smile, but it faded quickly. “As am I.” Shinoa glanced about, catching sight of more people to talk to before nodding to the Proprietress, giving Joan’s hand a squeeze in return. “Thank you, Daria. If there’s anything you need, I will arrange it.”

     “Come with me, then,” Daria said softly to Joan, putting an arm around the short teen as they walked toward the Temple doors. Shinoa made her way to where Rhianwen and Slifer stood, both mages keeping an eye on Lysander as he talked with his family. The Spellsinger leaned against her staff while the Sorcerer nervously ran the fingers of one hand along the hilt of his sword, the glow of magic flickering in front of him. The Blade Dancer saw Ulana kneeling next to Shadowhyn and smiled.

     Rhianwen looked at Shinoa, her eyes darting over the young Drow’s face before frowning. Slifer hadn’t noticed the Spellsinger’s expression, his eyes focused on the glyphs and symbols appearing in his Constructs. “Shinoa,” his voice held a worried tone, “the boy is _leaking_ Mana, I’ve not seen anything like it before.” He glanced at Rhianwen and faltered slightly before continuing, “He’s a powder-keg. It’s like he has no magical training _at_ _all_.”

     “He doesn’t!” Lydia snapped from where she sat on the ground next to her father. Shinoa glanced at the girl, surprised; she hadn’t noticed her sitting there. The girl was still pale, and a little wide-eyed, but her irritation was helping her focus. The young Dark Elf grinned at her, receiving a flustered smile and wave in return.

     “Can you put a Seal on him?” Shinoa asked the spellcasters. It was the second thing that came to mind. She didn’t want to consider the _first_ thing that came to mind.

     The two mages shared a look before shaking their heads, “No,” Rhianwen offered, “That’s not a type of magic _we_ can use.”

     Slifer nodded, “That’s a Drow specialty,” he said as he scratched the side of his neck, thinking. He glanced toward Ulana and Shadowhyn before looking back at Shinoa, “Shadaera’s the closest thing we have to a Spellhowler, she may be able to place a weak Seal on the boy.”

     “He’ll have to be taken to the Tetrearch,” Rhianwen said softly. Shinoa’s eyes snapped to the blonde Elf, her words a bizarre echo of what Ulana had said earlier. “Thiefiell will be able to place an appropriate Seal on him.” The Spellsinger shared a look with the Blade Dancer, “He may have retained Arts and memories from Dahvin… Dangerous knowledge held by an untrained youth?” The willowy Elf shivered at the thought.

     Shinoa nodded slowly. This was starting to become a problem that she could not ignore. “I think Shadaera may have something in mind,” the Dark Elf narrowed her eyes as she looked over her shoulder at the woman resting on the ground. “She’ll not be able to overlook this.” The two mages nodded in agreement.

     She turned back to face them, “I’ve asked Daria to begin burial preparations… We must honor our fallen.” Slifer looked startled, but Rhianwen nodded. “Hopefully the priests can accommodate the traditional Orc burial rites, Droxanna may have to assist them,” the young Dark Elf spoke more to herself than the others.

     “Of course, Shinoa. And after that?” the Spellsinger asked, a picture of innocence.

     Shinoa scrubbed her knuckles along her jaw as she began to pace, “We’ll need to set watch tonight on the North and West gates, the others are still frozen shut, yes?” She glanced at Rhianwen and continued after the Elf nodded, “After the ceremonies tomorrow, we should have a toast in their honor, then we must aid the Villagers in rebuilding.” She counted ideas on her fingers as she talked, “Thainn will surely aid the Blacksmith, our Orcs can assist with the heavy lifting, Nifii can handle any injuries, perhaps Lydia would like to assist her? Once we have access to the mainland, we…”

     The Blade Dancer continued to plan out the next few days, and Rhianwen gave Slifer a knowing look. He was surprised at first, but then nodded in silent agreement.

      

***

      

     Shadowhyn leaned back on her elbows, her hands idly playing with the edge of her cloak. She ran her fingertips along the seams in the fabric to feel the differences in material. The tile roof of the Temple was cool to the touch, having rapidly lost whatever warmth it had collected from the sun during the day. Her eyes closed as she gently breathed in and out, enjoying the salty tang from the ocean air and the midnight breeze rustling through her hair.

     “ _The stars are still so beautiful_ ,” Ulana said wistfully, her voice tinged with regret. The red-haired woman hummed in agreement, her eyes picking constellations out of the sparkling heavens. “ _Thank you for sharing this with me, Shadaera_ ,” the Summoner inhaled deeply, tasting the salty sea air once again, the scents of firewood from the bonfire and roasting meats from the Inn’s kitchen. A harsh breeze rustled the ex-Bishop’s red hair and the hem of her white cotton dress, causing a chill to run up her spine and goosebumps to spring out on her skin. Ulana grinned at the sensations as Shadowhyn shivered, grimacing slightly.

     The human sat up and rubbed at her arms to warm her fingers, “Of course,” Shadowhyn said gently, pulling her cloak forward over her shoulders to drape over her body. “I remember how we would watch the stars...” her voice trailed off as it took on a sad note. Ulana laid back on the gray tiles, lacing her fingers together behind her head, the human’s shoulder-length red hair spilling over her hands.

     “ _We would talk of everything and of nothing_ ,” the Dark Elf smiled, thinking fondly of those many summer nights—and the occasional frigid winter evening.

     Shadowhyn giggled, “It was _so cold_ that time we got lost in the Enchanted Valley.”

     “ _No_ , you _got lost_ ,” Ulana scoffed, “ _and it was pitch-black by the time I found you._ ”

     “ _Whaaat_ ,” The red-haired woman opened her mouth in shock and gasped, clearly offended, “That’s not what _I_ remember happening _at all_.”

     The Summoner laughed, “ _You’re just lucky I could see in the dark._ ”

     Shadowhyn grinned, her eyes dancing, “ _And_ that you could start a campfire for us.” She took another deep breath, smiling at the crackle of the bonfire below. Faint sounds of life filtered up to the rooftop: the buzz of conversations, singing, the occasional peal of laughter.

     Ulana raised her chin toward the edge of the roof, “ _Did you want to go down? They’re celebrating_ your _victory as well._ ” The ex-Bishop smiled at the kindness in her voice.

     “Is it selfish to want to stay up here with just you?” Shadowhyn asked quietly, before suddenly feeling _quite_ selfish. “I’m— _Sorry_ Ula, did you want to go talk to anyone?”

     Ulana shook her head, “ _I already said my goodbyes_.” She turned slightly as a sound caught her ear, “ _Although it seems we have a special visitor._ ” Shadowhyn grinned at the scraping of armor against stone, the oaths muttered under breath. She had wondered when she would make her way up to the roof.

     A gauntleted hand gripped the edge of the roof, cracking a tile as Shinoa hooked her other arm over the edge, slowly twisting, using the miniscule leverage to flip herself up and onto the cold rooftop. Seeing her crouched there at the edge of the Temple, Shadowhyn couldn’t help feeling a chill at the Blade Dancer’s predatory grace. Shinoa gave her a feral grin before smoothly standing to her feet to stalk toward the red-haired woman. The human gave an uneasy cough before Ulana whispered, “ _Pay her no mind_.”

     The young Dark Elf lowered herself next to the lone occupant of the star-lit Temple roof. “I thought you were in your room,” Shinoa said, shaking her head, “How did you get up here?”

     Shadowhyn gave her a sly grin, “I know you said ‘no more secrets’, but—”

     Shinoa laughed, waving her hand, “I mean no offense, Sister, but that climb was difficult for _me_ , and—”

     The red-haired woman gasped, “'I mean no offense’ but then you _wound_ me so!”

     The Blade Dancer snorted, shoving her gently with her shoulder. “ _We took the stairs in the bell-tower_ ,” Ulana confessed. Shinoa laughed as she glanced about, looking for her sister’s specter.

     “She’s here,” Shadowhyn said gently, laying a gray hand on her chest, “with me.”

     Shinoa raised an eyebrow before smiling, “Good.” She leaned back to look up at the stars, Shadowhyn laying down next to her a moment later. “I’m glad you’re not up here alone,” the young Drow said gently, “I was… I was worried when I didn’t see you down in the village.”

     “I… I wanted… one last chance,” Shadowhyn’s voice was timid and halting, “to watch the stars with Ulana.” She brushed a tear away as she glanced over at the Dark Elf. “I _should_ have invited you.”

     Shinoa made a small noise, waved a hand, “Whatever for?”

     Shadowhyn sat up and grabbed her hand, pulling her up as well. “ _So I could do this_ ,” Ulana said, the red-haired woman wrapping her arms around the young Dark Elf, running a hand through her platinum hair just like her older sister did when she was younger. Shinoa breathed out slowly, not entirely sure what the feeling was that made her chest tighten so. “ _Take care of each other_ , _and never forget that I love you_ ,” the Summoner said softly, the human nodding against her shoulder.

     “I love you too, Sister,” Shinoa could feel the sorrow and happiness in the back of her mind mingling with her own, the reinforced emotions strangely potent. The young Drow gave her sister a tight squeeze, chuckling under her breath at the soft _oof_ the red-haired woman made over her shoulder. She let go, sitting up straight to place her hand on the smaller human’s back as the woman wrapped her arms tightly around herself, tears glistening on her face.

     “ _I love you_ , _Shadaera_ ,” Ulana said softly, “ _Farewell_.”

     “ _And I love you_ ,” Shadowhyn whispered, turning her face up to the sky as the air above her shimmered, the Summoner’s luminescent form appearing for just a moment. Ulana smiled down at her, running a thumb across her cheek to wipe away a tear before she dissolved into a scattering cloud of light. The human and the Dark Elf watched as the light drifted higher in the sky, vanishing among the other stars in the black expanse above. The red-haired woman took a deep, hitching breath before she could speak again. “ _Goodbye_.”

     Several cheers sounded down in the Temple yard as fresh logs were thrown onto the bonfire. A great crackle of flame met their ears as the fire surged with the fresh fuel, throwing black smoke and brilliant sparks up into the air.

     The Blade Dancer and the Phantom Summoner sat on the cold Temple roof and watched the lights dance in the sky for a long while. Shinoa rubbed her hand between Shadowhyn’s shoulders, keeping a companionable silence while the smaller human hugged herself, tears falling freely as she mourned all she had lost. In time the tears slowed, and the red-haired woman cleared her throat, wiping at her face with the edge of her hand. “Thank you, Shinoa,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, “For… for everything.”

     Shinoa smiled and replied, “Of course.”

     Shadowhyn nodded, then motioned down at the Temple yard, “What say we get some of Dadrabian’s roast? It’s bound to be delicious.”

     Shinoa grinned, bounding to her feet to pull the smaller human up with her, “And a tankard or two of ale to help sweeten the meal!”

     Shadowhyn laughed as she tugged the Dark Elf toward the bell-tower, “That does sound good. Food, drink, and friends… I think I could use that right about now.” The two disappeared into the stone staircase, their hands clasped tightly together, both women drawn to the bright light from the bonfire and the sounds of life in the yard below.


End file.
